


The Lucky Ones

by rhysands_highlady



Series: The Lucky Ones Series [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysands_highlady/pseuds/rhysands_highlady
Summary: The film industry is not an easy place to be. Seeing her name in lights is Feyre Archeron’s dream, but can she handle the pressure?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Am I making edits to make some of the info fit better with TMOAS? Yes.

Rhysand walked into Prythian Studios for the first time in almost a year. The last time he was here, he was still living with Mor in her small but cute apartment on Hollywood Boulevard. Not that he didn’t love her, but he was ecstatic when he was able to move out. He had bought a townhouse away from the glitz and glam of Hollywood. It was quiet and the press hadn’t found it yet.

Cassian and Azriel were grateful that he had enough room in his townhouse for them. They’d moved out here some months ago, away from their controlling, businessman father. Their mother had been devastated, their sister as well--though she didn’t show it. Cassian was doing photography. He took pictures of literally everything, and was actually pretty good at it. Azriel was--well, Rhys wasn’t sure what he was doing. He wouldn’t even tell Mor.

He didn’t expect anyone to know or recognise him, he’d only been in one movie. Sure, the press had been following him for months and every interview he did was about the next movie in the Throne of Glass saga, but it still seemed surreal. His name was finally in lights. He was finally proving his father wrong about how he would never make it in the film industry. 

He was met almost immediately by Nuala and Cerridwen who whisked him away to his new trailer. He had a fucking trailer. He shook off the thought when Nuala placed a fat script in front of him. It was longer than the last one, not by much, but it was definitely longer. Rhys sighed, but then there was a knock at the door. Cerridwen rushed to get it, and there was Lucien with a bottle of vodka and multiple bags of In-N-Out.

“Lucien, it’s 11 in the fucking morning,” Rhys chuckled, flopping down on the leather couch. 

“It’s past noon somewhere, Mr. My-Life-Is-So-Hard,” Lucien countered, walking in. He placed the bottle and the bags on the coffee table, and sat in the matching leather chair across from Rhys. He propped his feet up on the table. “We might as well try to enjoy reading through it.”

\----------

“What the hell are you two doing?” Tamlin demanded as he barged through the door to Rhysand’s trailer. Rhys and Lucien had gotten completely wasted--especially since Cerridwen had brought them multiple more bottles--and were now drunkenly acting out the new script. 

“We’re reading through the script, Tam-Tam,” Rhys declared. He raised the bottle he was holding in salute to Tamlin, the alcohol sloshing inside and then drank straight from the bottle. 

He pointed a finger at Tamlin. “You interrupted a very important moment between Celaena and Chaol, mister.” His finger dropped when Lucien kissed him. 

Lucien pulled away with a smile. Rhys looked pretty pleased as well, especially since Tamlin had now vacated the trailer. No doubt to get ready for his girlfriend who was arriving in a few weeks. Rhys was still shocked that a guy like Tamlin could even find a girlfriend. Hopefully she wasn’t as cruel as him.   
\---------------

Feyre Archeron had never been to Los Angeles, but her bag was packed. Her flight was in a matter of hours. She’d finally be free of her small town life. She was anxious about moving in with Tamlin. She remember his outbursts of anger, she remembered the nights she had spent curled in a ball in her dorm room, hoping he wouldn’t come looking for her. She shook off the thoughts. 

_There’s no turning back now_ , she thought as she picked up her bag and walked out her front door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting major nostalgia

_New to town with a made up name, in the Angel city, chasing fortune and fame_

Feyre Archeron stared out the window of the taxi the whole ride to Tamlin’s apartment. She’d never been to a city larger than her small town back in Washington. The traffic was awful, but it was beautiful. It was everything she had dreamed of since she was 8 years old. She never thought it would actually happen after her mother died, and her family lost their main source of income. Her sisters had already left Feyre and their father to do bigger, better things by the time Feyre was old enough to move out. 

“That’ll be $35 dollars,” the cab driver said, plucking Feyre out of her daze. She scrambled through her purse, looking for her wallet. 

“I seem to have lost my wallet, but my boyfriend’s in the building just there and he can pay,” Feyre said, giving the driver a nervous look. He rolled his eyes but nodded.

_I’m here_ , she texted Tamlin. _Oh, and I lost my wallet, so can you bring out some money for the cab?_

She smiled at the driver before opening the car door and stepping out of the car in front of 5923 Gregory Avenue. It looked nice enough from the outside, but Tamlin had shown her pictures of the inside. It was simple and small, but it was nicer than her old house in Washington. She walked around to the trunk and pulled out her luggage, heaving it onto the sidewalk. 

She slammed the trunk shut as Tamlin came down the stairs outside of his apartment. He was wear a dark green polo shirt and khaki bermuda shorts. His blond hair was tied back into a low ponytail, his green eyes reflecting the same smile that was on his face.

“Feyre!”, Tamlin called. He ran to her and engulfed her in his arms, nestling his head between her neck and shoulder. 

“I missed you,” he whispered, letting her go. 

Tamlin walked over to the passenger side window of the cab and handed the driver the cash for the fare. He threw his arm over Feyre’s shoulder as the cab sped away. He picked up her duffel bag with his other hand and starting guiding her towards the staircase. 

“How was your flight?” he asked, his arm falling down beside him when they reached the steps. 

“Oh, I mean it was fine,” Feyre mumbled offering Tamlin a small smile. “I’d never flown in a plane before, so it was a little nerve wracking…” She crossed her arms over her chest as they reached the front door. Tamlin opened the door and stepped inside, walking immediately towards the hall directly across from the door.

“I tried to get one with two bedrooms,” Tamlin explained. “So we could each have our own space, but it was cheaper to only have one.” Feyre nodded. The apartment was a decent size. It had a large open room with a TV mounted on the right wall and couches arranged around it when you walked inside. There was a small kitchen to the left, and a short hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom. Yes, it was a nice place. 

“We have some time before we have to be at the studio if you want to shower,” Tamlin began. “Are you alright?” It was then that Feyre realised that she hadn’t left the doorway of the apartment. Her eyes snapped to his, and she gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Sorry, I’m still just a bit off from the flight,” Feyre apologised as she ran a hand through her hair. “I think I’ll take you up on that shower now.”

\---------------

It was not Rhysand Spera’s day. He had woken up late, finding his brothers and boyfriend already gone for work. Guess they didn’t think it would be a good idea to wake him up. He’d had no time to put on anything other than a t-shirt and sweatpants before rushing out the door. He’d tried to stop for coffee, but the line was entirely too long. By the time he got to Prythian Studios, he was an hour late. 

“Where the hell have you been, Spera?” Lucien called just as Rhys reached his trailer. He rolled his eyes, turning around to face the redhead now walking towards him. Lucien’s hair was tied back into a low ponytail as usual, fallen strands now framing his face. His russet eyes gleamed like gold in the morning sun.

“You neglected to wake me up this morning, so I woke up an hour late,” Rhys explained, putting his hands in his pockets. A golf cart drove by carrying Morrigan, already on her way to set. She gave Rhys a grin and gave a little wave as she passed by. He returned her wave with a vulgar gesture.

“Is that also why you look like you got ran over by a bus?” Lucien questioned, smirking a little as Rhys faced him again. 

“Fuck off, Vanserra,” Rhys grumbled and turned back to his trailer. Opening the trailer door to find the lovely Nuala and Cerridwen ready to get him into hair and makeup.

“Tamlin’ll be pissed if you’re not on set by 10,” Lucien warned. “And you know how he gets when he’s angry.” With that, Rhysand slammed the door to his trailer and sat down in front of the mirror.

\-------------

Feyre’s hands shook as she walked onto the set of _Crown of Midnight_ with Tamlin. He had gotten her an internship, so that she could see what it was like to be on a movie set and maybe get the chance to audition for a role in the future. She was grateful, she was, but she had never been a very outgoing person. She usually kept to the shadows in social situations, not wanting to make herself known. She needed to work on that if she was going to ever be a star, and this was a good a place as any to start. 

She had two degrees in this field. One would think she knew enough to get in some other way, but Tamlin insisted this was the best way.

“I’ll be right over there if you need anything,” Tamlin reassured her before walking away to talk to some cameraman or other. 

A guy with flaming red hair--Lucien, he had claimed--had asked her to make a cup of coffee for Rhysand Spera. 

She knew who Rhysand was. Everyone who had seen a movie in the past two years knew who he was. She just hadn’t realised that he was also starring in _this_ movie. Lucien had said that Rhysand had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and was in need of caffeine. He had then left to talk to someone far more important than the new intern. She had forgotten to ask how Rhysand liked his coffee.

Feyre didn’t struggle with making the coffee. She had made coffee before, it wasn’t hard. Plus, she was deathly afraid of messing it up. She was making coffee for one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, who wouldn’t be terrified. She stirred in some milk and sugar, keeping her head down as she did so. She picked up the mug, readying to turn around, when a male voice behind her purred, “You seemed to be very focused on making that coffee.” She jumped, splashing coffee everywhere. Feyre whipped around.

“What the fuck-” Feyre’s voice cut out as she realised who was standing in front of her. Rhysand Spera was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His violet eyes flickered in amusement at the look on her face. 

“Shit, sorry, I-I’ve been looking for you.” She choked out, looking down at the empty coffee mug in her hand. “Some guy named Lucien told me you needed coffee and so I was making some but obviously…..” She trailed off because Rhysand had stalked over to Lucien who gave Feyre a wink before Rhysand dragged him out of the room.

\-------------

As soon as they were out the door, Rhys pushed Lucien up against the brick wall and placed a chaste kiss on Lucien’s mouth, who just smirked as Rhys cocked his head to the side. 

“Why did you send that poor girl to bring me coffee?” He asked as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind Lucien’s ear. He let his hand slide down to rest on Lucien's shoulder.

“She was pretty and looked a bit lost,” Lucien shrugged. “So, I gave her something to do.” Rhys shook his head even as he smiled. 

“Would you like someone to join us in bed, Lucien?” Rhys inquired. Lucien just shrugged, but Rhys saw the playful look in his eyes. “Hmm, we’ll have to see.” He kissed Lucien on the cheek before dashing back inside. 

\---------------

Feyre shook off the fact that she had just spoken to Rhysand Spera, and started to clean up the mess of coffee that was now dripping on the floor. 

“Do you need any help?” A girl said behind her. Feyre turned around to find a girl with long, blonde hair and gorgeous chocolate brown eyes looking back at her. “I’m Mor, you must be new.” Feyre nodded and the girl--Mor smiled at her. Mor walked over, grabbed a handful of napkins, and started to help wipe up the coffee. 

Once they had wiped up the mess, Feyre blurted, “My name is Feyre, by the way.”

“Feyre,” Mor tested out her name. “That’s pretty.” She smiled again, jeez did she ever not smile?

“Mor, where the hell did your cousin go?” Tamlin barked from his director’s chair. “He was supposed to be here 20 minutes ago.” 

“How would I know?” Mor snapped. “I’m not Rhys' assistant, I’m his fucking cousin.” 

“I don’t give two shits, Mor,” Tamlin growled. “Find your damn cousin, or you’re fired.” Mor rolled her eyes and excused herself to go find her cousin--Rhysand. This girl was Rhysand’s cousin. 

Tamlin spotted Feyre from across the room and his angry expression melted away. He strolled over to where Feyre stood by the table of coffee and breakfast foods, and picked up an apple. 

“How’s your first day going?” Tamlin asked before taking a bite out of the apple. 

“I almost spilled coffee all over Rhysand Spera,” Feyre confessed, trying to focus on anything other than Tamlin’s now-frustrated face. She wrung her hands as the side door opened and Rhysand strolled back onto set, Lucien following in after him. 

“One moment, Feyre,” Tamlin excused himself, walked over to Rhysand, and started arguing with him. She turned around towards the table when Rhysand started walking towards the refreshments. Tamlin had stormed off to tell Lucien to find Mor. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Rhysand said from where he had stopped next to her. “I didn’t mean to scare you half to death. I’m Rhys,” Feyre turned her head to meet his gorgeous face and bright violet eyes. He had a questioning look on his face.

“I’m Feyre,” she said, getting a smile from him. “I’m new, and I’m just an intern. My boyfriend got me this job so that I could actually contribute to paying our rent and getting my college debts paid and-” She saw Rhys' smile fade away as she rambled. “What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Feyre darling,” Rhys said, a smirk appearing on his face. “ _My_ boyfriend seems to be intrigued by you, that’s all.” When Feyre’s eyebrows rose, he looked over to where Lucien was chatting with Mor. “I should go, we were supposed to start filming ages ago.” Then Rhys walked over to where Lucien and Mor stood, leaving Feyre alone once again.


	3. Chapter 3

_And the camera flashes, make it look like a dream_

Tamlin had decided to show Feyre around Los Angeles. She had seen some of it out the taxi window, but it was a completely different experience. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard with Tamlin’s hand in hers, it was the happiest she had felt since Tamlin had graduated university and left for the Angel City. 

They stopped in front of Sushi of Gari. Feyre had made the mistake of telling Tamlin that she loved sushi when they first started dating, and he had never forgotten. She hated sushi. 

They walked in and he asked for a table for two. The waitress walked them to a tall table and chairs towards the back of the restaurant. Feyre looked at the menu when she sat down and nearly groaned. They had nothing but sushi. Not one dish that did not include fish. 

Her emotions must have been written on her face because Tamlin said, “I’m sorry about having to sit in the back, I didn’t want the paparazzi to spot me. I don’t want you to have to deal with them on your first day here.” Feyre nodded, and continued looking at the menu, trying--and failing--to find something that wasn’t fucking fish. 

\-------------

“She’s Tamlin’s girl, Luce,” Rhys told his boyfriend before taking a sip of his wine. Mor, Rhys, and Lucien sat at the dining room table in Rhys’ townhouse. Cassian and Azriel were late for dinner as usual. Lucien had made homemade pizza and a garden salad for the 5 of them. He kept trying to convince all of them that eating In-N-Out every damn day was unhealthy. They didn’t listen. 

“Then I guess we’ll just have to figure out a way around that,” Lucien concluded with a smirk. Rhys did not look amused, neither did Mor actually. His smirk faded. “Rhys, you know she’s not just some girl. You saw how she--” They heard the door of the townhouse open, and Mor’s head turned towards the noise. Rhys and Lucien just stared at each other until they heard Cassian.

“I’m home,” Cassian called from the entryway. “You pricks better not have started without me.” He walked into the dining room, his hair tied back in a bun as usual. He had forgotten to take his glasses off from working all day, and his white button up shirt had two buttons loose, exposing part of his tattooed chest. 

“I am completely not sorry that we started without you,” Mor stated as Cassian took a seat next to her and started piling pizza and salad on his plate. “We were all starved and Lucien’s pizza was going to get cold.” Cassian rolled his eyes and dug into his food.

“Do you know where Az is?” Rhys asked, worry lining his voice. 

“No, but you know how he is,” Cassian answered. “I’m sure he’s fine, brother.” That didn’t stop Rhys from fiddling with his ring as they ate. 

\---------------

Feyre ended up getting the smallest dish she could, deciding that she could easily find something at Walgreens to snack on later. Tamlin had ordered the chef’s selection and eaten every bite. She tried not to gag as she ate hers. 

Tamlin asked her about things that he already knew. He asked her how her sisters were doing, though she knew he didn’t care. He then talked about the movie and the stress of dealing with a cast that “doesn’t listen”. She nodded along as he spoke and lazily stirred her drink with her straw. She didn't believe for one second that the cast was the problem, but she'd never say that to him.

An hour later, Tamlin had paid the bill and they started towards the front entrance. It was swarmed with paparazzi trying to get a shot of new star director Tamlin Johnson. Tamlin grabbed Feyre’s hand hard enough to hurt as he opened the door to the restaurant. All Feyre could see were bright flashing lights and hear the reporters asking questions.

_‘Any news on how the filming of the new Throne of Glass movie is going?’_

_‘Who’s this new girl you have with you, Tamlin?’_

_‘What happened to Ianthe?’_

But what she didn’t expect was for some––most of the questions to be directed at her.

_‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’_

_‘How long have you known Tamlin?’_

_‘What do you do for a living?’_

_‘Where are you from?’_

_‘When did you and Tamlin start dating?’_

_‘Do you know anything about the new movie?’_

_‘Will we see you in the new movie?’_

Tamlin’s hand only tightened in hers as they climbed into a taxi and sped away.

\--------------

Feyre watched as Tamlin stormed into their apartment. He locked himself in the bathroom and didn’t come out for a long while. She heard the water running and knew he was trying to calm himself down. She knew he would be gripping the sides of the sink and his head would be down as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

She was going to tell him that she was going out, but she assumed it would make him more upset. She was wrong. 

When Feyre walked back into the apartment, Tamlin was on the phone with the police and there was a hole through the wall beside the TV. The coffee table in the living room was flipped and, overall, the apartment was a mess. Tamlin immediately hung up the phone. 

“FEYRE, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?” Tamlin roared. Feyre flinched and set the bag of snacks she had bought down on the kitchen counter. She took a deep breath before turning towards him.

“I went to the store,” She tried to reply calmly, but her voice was shaking. “I thought telling you would just make you more upset, I’m sorry.”

“I thought you had fucking left me,” Tamlin said with a deadly calm that Feyre knew all too well. “Do not leave this house without my permission.” He ordered and stalked back into the bathroom. Probably to get the sleeping pills that he used when he got angry and didn’t want to speak to her. 

When he walked into their bedroom, Feyre took the chance to go into the bathroom herself and wash off her face. She found blood in the sink, likely from the wounds on his hand from punching the living room wall. She rinsed the blood from the sink and went to the living room to fix the disorder. She cleared all signs that something had gone wrong except for the fist-sized hole in the wall. Tamlin would likely apologise in the morning, blaming it on the alcohol that he didn’t drink. 

After eating half the bag of chips in silence on the large armchair and staring at the hole in the wall, Feyre put away the rest of her food and went into the bedroom. Tamlin was asleep, he had probably been since before Feyre had even washed his blood from the sink. She faced away from him when she climbed into the queen-sized bed, hoping she wouldn’t wake up with his arm thrown over her.

\--------------

Rhys laid in bed staring at his ceiling. Lucien was asleep next to him. He had stayed when Rhys had asked. They hadn’t spoken of Feyre again, but Rhys knew Lucien was right. Feyre wasn’t just some girl, but he wasn’t going to put her in danger. He’d seen Tamlin’s outbursts. He’d heard him on the phone with her in the past, many a time Tamlin accused her of cheating. No, he was not going to put her in the line of Tamlin’s rage. 

Azriel had arrived after they had finished eating, though they sat at the table until he arrived. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he had muttered when he saw them all sitting at the table. 

“Where have you been, Az?” Mor had asked him cautiously. He shook his head and that was the end of that conversation. Lucien had tried to keep the conversation lively, but tensions were high and nothing could lighten the mood. 

Azriel had eaten quickly and excused himself to his room. Mor had left for her own apartment soon after. Cassian had gone to his office to look through the photos he had taken that day and to send samples to clients. Which left Lucien and Rhys to clean up dinner. Neither of them had spoken until the job was done, but even then it was just Rhys asking Lucien to stay. 

Lucien rolled over and his arm circled around Rhys’ abdomen. He sighed and drew stars on Lucien’s hand and arm with his index finger. Not wanting to think about what tomorrow would bring, he kissed the top of Lucien’s head before finally drifting off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool_

Feyre woke up to Tamlin’s arm indeed around her. She gently pulled his arm off of her so as to not wake him up. She rolled out of bed and grabbed her phone. She had multiple texts and calls from her sisters. Nesta was confused and angry, but Elain… Elain was happy and excited for her.

From Nesta:  
 _Why were you with Tamlin? I thought that you had broken that off months ago._

And then:  
 _Feyre, pick up the damn phone and please tell me you didn’t get back together with him. You aren’t really that stupid._

Then:  
 _If you do not answer me, I am going to fly out there to make sure you aren’t with him_

And finally:  
 _The flight is fucking booked, I’ll be at LAX by noon today._

Attached to the last text was a screenshot of the booking. Nesta lived in New York and worked at a publishing company. She worked almost 24/7, and was likely already at the office when Feyre received the texts at 5 in the morning. Feyre checked the time: 7:47 am, and considering how long a flight was from NYC to Los Angeles, Nesta was most likely already on the plane. 

Her and Tamlin needed to be at the studio by 9, and they’d likely be filming at noon. Not to mention how long it would take to get across town around lunch hour. _But you’re just an intern_ , Feyre reminded herself. No one really cared what she did, and she was paid by the hour anyways.

She sighed left the room to go take a shower. When she returned to the bedroom, Tamlin was gone. He was likely out to get her a nice breakfast and a coffee to make up for what had happened last night. Sure enough, minutes later he walked into the apartment and called her name. She took a deep breath before exiting the bedroom. 

She walked to the kitchen table that she had moved back to its place after it was shoved against the wall. She sat down in the seat across from him and took the bag he was holding. Inside was a warm, chocolate croissant that smelled heavenly. She gave him a small smile and took a sip from the coffee that he slid across the table. He was watching her like an animal that he would scare away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “I just--the damn paparazzi was harassing you and I was angry about it.” Feyre nodded and ran her finger around the lid of the coffee. She didn’t meet his eyes. “I am sorry, Feyre.” 

“Nesta is coming to town,” Feyre replied softly, ignoring his apology completely. “Her flight gets in at noon, and I should probably be there to get her and…” Tamlin had taken her hand and her focus went to the hand in hers. 

“Just let me know when you leave,” he smiled at her with his perfectly straight teeth and she returned it. 

\-----------------

Rhys woke up at 8am to an alarm blaring. He turned to Lucien, whose arm was still around him. The redhead smirked up at him and rolled out of bed after kissing him softly. Lucien walked to the window and threw open the night dark curtains, allowing sunlight to stream in. Rhys squinted against the light.

“You were late yesterday, so I made sure that didn’t happen,” Lucien explained as he walked to the bathroom adjoining the bedroom. He closed the door behind him and Rhys soon heard the shower turn on. 

Rhys sat up and ran a hand through his disheveled black hair. He could smell what seemed to be pancakes being cooked downstairs. The smell of coffee also floated up to meet him.

Cassian had likely been up for an hour already. Rhysand got out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and walked to the closed bathroom door.

“Luce, Cassian made pancakes,” he told Lucien through the door. “Hurry up!” He knew Lucien would’ve rolled his eyes at that, would’ve shaken his head. Rhys smiled at the thought as he walked out of the bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen. 

Cassian was indeed standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. He wore the same outfit in different variations everyday. Today he wore a light blue, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of chestnut-coloured trousers, his glasses placed on the top of his head. His hair was tied back into a bun as usual.

Azriel was sat at the island, drinking black coffee and reading the newspaper. His dark grey t-shirt and black jeans were tight fitting and highlighted his lean body. His black leather jacket was thrown over the back of his stool.

“Look at that,” Cassian said when he noticed Rhys making to sit down in the stool next to Azriel. “Sleeping Beauty is awake early today.”

“What a shocker,” Az chuckled softly, raising his coffee mug to his lips once more. Cassian gave him a devious grin and returned to flipping pancakes. The batter sizzled as he poured more into the pan.

Lucien entered the kitchen moments later, already fully dressed though his damp, shoulder-length hair hung freely. Rhys gave him an incredulous look, his mouth hanging open. 

“Some people are efficient at getting ready in the morning,” Lucien smirked and walked to the counter with the coffee maker. Azriel tried to hide the smile growing on his face, and Rhys punched him in the arm. 

Cassian set a large plate full of steaming hot pancakes along with smaller plates for eating on in front of his brothers. Lucien walked around to sit in between the two, handing a mug of coffee to his boyfriend. Said boyfriend kissed Lucien on the cheek, grabbed a plate, and piled multiple pancakes onto it. 

“I’ve gotta run,” Azriel said, grabbing a pancake and his leather jacket. He was out the front door before anyone could question where he was going. 

\------------------

Tamlin stopped apologising after Feyre told him that it was okay and that she forgave him. Because it was okay, wasn’t it? He was trying to protect her. And.. He loved her, he would never hurt her. She shut out the memories of the reasons they'd broken up almost a year ago. He'd changed.

The set was already crawling with cast members and other people working on the production. Tamlin had been called over by a short, black-haired woman, who proceeded to question him extensively on how the project was going. She looked seemingly calm, but Feyre could tell that she could easily destroy Tamlin’s career in seconds. 

When Tamlin stormed away from her, the woman rolled her eyes and walked over to the table where Feyre was standing. It had become a sort of safe haven for her where she wouldn’t be noticed by most everyone, but could still watch what was going on. 

“And who are you?” Feyre was snapped out of her thoughts by the short woman. She met the woman’s gaze. 

“I’m Feyre Archeron, miss,” Feyre replied quietly. “I’m a new intern.”

“Speak up, girl, or nobody will know or care about what you have to say,” The woman stirred her black coffee, and, for reasons Feyre didn’t understand, smiled coyly at Feyre before stating, “I’m Amren, and I happen to own this studio.”

“I assume that you’re dating Tamlin since you walked in with him and your eyes were glued to him the entire time we spoke. A little word of advice, watch your back, girl, Tamlin is not one to be messed with.” With that, Amren turned on her heel and went to speak with some producer or other. 

Feyre watched her go, confused, but not surprised. He’d called her multiple times in the past few years to make sure that she wasn’t cheating on him. Though, Hollywood clearly thought he had been dating some girl named Ianthe. Feyre had yet to figure out who she was. She could ask Tamlin, but…. after last night Feyre wasn’t too keen on questioning him at all. 

______________

Rhysand was not late this morning. He was at the studio even before Tamlin--Tamlin and Feyre. He’d seen the both of them get out of a taxi as he was walking to Mor’s trailer. He wasn’t surprised of course, he’d seen the pictures of them leaving that sushi place same as the rest of them. That didn’t mean he was happy about it. 

Nuala and Cerridwen had been efficient as always in getting him ready, and he was on set with plenty of time. When he walked on set, he saw Amren seemingly terrorizing Feyre. Tamlin was sitting in his director’s chair looking like he was holding court, completely oblivious to his girlfriend. 

Lucien had gone straight to his office when they’d arrived at the studio. He had grumbled something about Amren needing to see the updated budget for _Crown of Midnight_. Being the producer, he dealt with the tiny woman on a regular basis.

Amren left Feyre’s side and left the large set of Celaena’s bedroom. Rhys stood by the door and watched Feyre blend back into the shadows, content to watch everything that was going on. Her eyes returned to Tamlin every few moments, as if making sure that he wasn’t going to explode with anger any second.

Rhys strode casually over to her with the swaggering appearance that everyone thought of upon hearing the name Rhysand Spera. He stopped right in front of Feyre who was looking down and fiddling with her fingernails.

“Hello, Feyre darling,” Rhys smiled down at Feyre, whose head now snapped up at his voice. Her beautiful blue-gray eyes widened at the sight of him. 

“Hello, Mr. Spera,” Feyre replied, tucking a piece of golden-brown hair behind her ear. Rhys made a face at that. 

“I told you to call me Rhys,” he cocked his head to the side, though his smile did not fade. “How are you feeling?” Feyre failed to hide her wince. Something had happened. Not that she would even think of telling Rhysand. 

“I’m fine,” she said, but her eyes once again drifted to where Tamlin stood. Something like fear flashed across her face, but it was gone in an instant. “And you, _Rhys_?” She put emphasis on his name, as her eyes returned to his and she gave him a small smile.

“I’m doing wonderfully,” Rhysand answered, his eyes alight with amusement. “Thank you so _very_ much for asking.” Feyre rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. That is, until she looked over Rhys’ shoulder to see Tamlin storming towards them.

“Tam, we were just talking,” Feyre said, stepping out from behind Rhysand and putting up her hands. Tamlin didn’t slow his pace. “Tam, I swear I-” He grabbed her wrist, and pulled her towards the set door. She ducked her head as they walked swiftly passed all others.

With not one last glance at Rhysand or anyone else, the pair slipped off of the movie set and into the broad daylight.


	5. Chapter 5

Tamlin did not let go of her wrist until they were out the door, but even then, he released her roughly. He didn’t step away from her, keeping her within reaching distance. His eyes burned like emerald flame, and Feyre tried not to flinch away from his stare.

“You fucking slut,” Tamlin spat. “I get angry _once_ and you go prancing off with some other guy.” Feyre didn’t try to defend herself as he slapped her face. Her eyes watered, but she did not cry. "You know he's a fucking homo, right?"

He had gotten angry with her more than once in the past. She had every right to leave him and yet… and yet she never did. He claimed to love her, and Feyre had never had that before. At least not from someone other than her sisters, or her father whenever he was sober enough to acknowledge her existence.

Her shoulders curled in, and she looked at her feet as he began to yell nonsense at her. About how grateful she should be for him, and how badly Rhysand would treat her, and how stupid she was, and how if he ever caught her speaking to another man again…. He didn’t finish the sentence, but Feyre got the idea. 

“Your bitch sister’s flight will be here soon,” he said calmly, but firmly. “You should go get her.” With that, he returned inside, and Feyre let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. 

Her face still stung, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Everything would be fine. She’d pick up Nesta and figure it out as she went. She ran her hand across her face and through her loose hair before starting towards the front gates of the studio. 

It was a nice day outside, not too hot, not too cold, though southern California rarely got below 50 degrees(Fahrenheit). The sun was shining so brightly that she squinted her eyes, and ended up walking right into someone. Tan arms caught her before she could fall to the ground. One hand held a thin packet of paper with lists of numbers.

“Someone seems a little dazed,” Feyre blinked at Lucien, whose flaming red hair shone in the sun. He smiled down at her, though he wasn’t much taller. “You alright, love?”

“Sorry,” Feyre said, looking around nervously. Tamlin probably had eyes watching her everywhere. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” She made to walk away, but he grabbed her arm, though not forcefully like Tamlin.

“You sure that you’re okay?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes for a moment, but then it was gone. She nodded and he let her go. As she walked away, she could feel his eyes on her back.

\---------

Lucien watched Feyre until she had gotten into the cab at the gates. Something had happened, but he wasn’t sure what. He knew she wouldn’t have told him even if he had pressed her about it. He doubted Rhys knew for the same reason.

Amren’s office was up 5 flights of stairs in a tower-like building that housed no elevator. Anyone who needed to speak to her was forced to climb it. From the outside it looked like a prison, but the inside was nicely decorated. 

It was almost noon by the time he reached her office door. He raised his hand to know, but the tiny woman’s voice called to him from inside before he could.

“Get your ass in here, Vanserra,” Amren called. Lucien twisted the doorknob and stepped inside. She was sat at her black marble desk, her laptop placed in front of her. Her fingers toyed with the ruby necklace hanging around her neck as she stared at the screen. 

“Well, do you have the budget?” She didn’t even look up at him. He threw it down on the table and plopped into one of the dark gray cushioned chairs. She paused her typing to pick up the packet and scan the list. She nodded. “Good.” For a moment, he sat there thinking, until she looked up at him with a raised brow.

“Is Tamlin a good person?” Lucien asked, his brows furrowed. He already knew the answer, but he asked anyway. Amren sighed and sat back in her chair, pinching her temples.

“He’s good at his job,” She paused, as if trying to figure out how to word it. “Maybe too good. He lets his work overlap with his real life.” A grim smile. Realising that’s all she would say, Lucien stood and began his descent down the staircase.

\---------

The traffic was awful. Feyre had sat in the gods-damned taxi for almost an hour. Nesta had texted her a minute ago, alerting Feyre that she had landed. Feyre wrung her hands as she waited at the baggage claim for her sharp-tongued older sister.

What was she going to do? What was she going to tell her? She surely couldn’t tell Nesta that she was _living_ with Tamlin. She’d go ballistic. She couldn’t even bring Nesta to their apartment due to the fist-sized hole that was not yet fixed. Feyre was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Nesta until she spoke.

“Well at least you’re not dead,” Nesta observed, standing a few feet in front of Feyre, her carry on at her side. She gave Feyre a small smile before pulling her in for a quick hug. “I missed you, Fey.” 

“I missed you too,” Feyre smiled back at her, trying to hide her anxiety. “How’s New York? And Tomas?” Nesta rolled her eyes and began to walk towards the exit.

“Tomas Mandray and I haven’t been together for at least a month. And New York is still great, mostly the same.” Nesta pulled out her phone and typed something in before turning back to Feyre, who was readying to hail a taxi. “No need, little sister, I’ve already ordered us an Uber.” Feyre’s arm dropped and though she smiled, she crossed her arms over her stomach, looking down at her feet. It was going to be a long few days.

\-----------

Rhysand’s eyes were fixed on nothing as he stood listening to Tamlin drone about what we were filming on Thursday. He vaguely recalled the man saying he was giving them the day off to spend time with his girlfriend. His girlfriend. _Feyre_.

Rhysand tried not to think about the fact that Tamlin had returned, but Feyre had not. He failed miserably.

Tamlin had dragged her out of the room, and he had not been gentle. And Feyre… Feyre had succumbed to him as soon as he turned his attention on her. 

This was Rhys’ fault. He was stupid. So damn stupid for thinking that talking to her would be okay. That Tamlin wouldn’t lose his mind over it. It should’ve been okay. Anyone in a healthy and trusting relationship should be fine with their significant other having perfectly innocent conversations. 

Was she okay? Would she be back tomorrow? Where did she go? What _happened_?

Why did he care? He had known her for little over a day. But even still it didn’t matter, no one deserved to be treated so poorly. 

“Rhys,” Morrigan murmured from his side, snapping him out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped to hers, but they weren’t her natural chocolate brown ones. She frowned at him, her brows furrowing. “You seem distracted.” 

Rhys ran a hand across his face and shook his head. He tried to brush past her, but she stepped in front of him, her hands on her hips. 

“We all saw him drag her out. We all noticed that she hasn’t returned.” She paused, waiting for him to say something. 

“Rhys, I just don’t see why you care so much.” Mor cocked her head to the side, her hands still on her hips. “She’s a nice girl, and I’d love to get to know her, but she only started working here yesterday it’s not like-”

“I get it, Mor,” Rhys interrupted, holding out his hand as if to physically stop her from speaking. “I’m going home. I guess I’ll see you for dinner.” He plastered a contented mask on his face, and walked away with his hands in his pockets. Rhysand felt Morrigan’s concerned gaze on his back the whole while.

\-------------

Feyre had failed at concealing her anxiety at having her sister in town. When Nesta had asked about Tamlin, minutes into their ride, Feyre’s facade cracked. She didn’t genuinely think that Nesta wouldn’t start playing the mother, as she often did.

She was so similar to their mother, with her sharp cheekbones and thin mouth. She didn’t mean to be cruel, she just wanted what was best for both Feyre and Elain. Their father did close to nothing so it was no surprise when Nesta took up pushing her sisters to be their best selves. Though, she didn’t help with anything besides that. Feyre was the one who had brought in an income.

They were behind that now, with all three sisters out of the house and away from their father. But the truth was… Feyre was broke and had college debts. The only reason she had somewhere to stay and had a job was because of Tamlin. It was why no matter what he did, she couldn’t leave him. Short of scoring an acting job, which was unlikely to happen anytime soon, there was nothing Feyre could do.

Nesta had reprimanded her, but had dropped the subject when they arrived at the pizza place that Nesta had apparently been to the last time she was in LA. They hadn’t said a word to each other since they’d sat down. Feyre was glad for the silence, but she couldn’t help but ask.

“What happened with Tomas?” Nesta’s eyes met hers in a hard stare. 

“He treated me badly, so I left,” Nesta said, returning to her margherita pizza. Feyre looked down at her hands that sat clasped in her lap. Nesta was a stronger person than she would ever be. 

While Feyre waited for her dreams to come true, Nesta chased them. She knew what she wanted and she went for it. She spoke her mind, and people often chastised her for it, but she didn’t care. Feyre wasn’t like that. At least not since she met Tamlin.

“Hey, you’ll get there,” Nesta interrupted her thoughts, and Feyre looked up from her hands. “I believe in you.” And for once, even if only for a second, Feyre believed in herself too.


	6. Chapter 6

_And they’ll tell you now you’re the lucky one_

Lucien sat at his office desk. Amren had already sent him more work to do by the time he had returned, hours ago. The cast had been sent home. Tamlin was likely still working, and if he wasn’t, he was out with Feyre.

Lucien sighed. He’d had no right to stop her from leaving the studio, unless he invoked his “producer power” as Rhys often called it. He didn’t feel like doing that to her. So he had let her walk away.

He knew what she really wanted to be doing was be in front of the camera. He’d seen the way she watched the cast during the shoot yesterday. But what could he do to help her?

There was always hiring her as an extra or some part with only a few lines, but no one would care what she had to offer. He could call Helion, Rhys’ agent. Get her an audition. But he also didn’t want to force this on her. 

The audition didn’t have to be in person though. I mean, she could send in a tape. Well, he could send in a tape. Make sure Helion saw it. Yes, that would do.

He picked up the phone to ring Helion. He wasn’t surprised when his personal assistant Tarquin answered. 

“Hello, Day Court Agency, Tarquin speaking.”

“Yes, hello Tarquin dear,” Lucien replied. “This is Lucien Vanserra. Could you let Helion know that I’ll be sending him an audition tape within the next few days? Tell him I swear it’ll be worth it.” He could hear the scribbling of pen on paper as he spoke.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Vanserra. Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you, Tarquin,” he hung up the phone and smiled to himself as he packed his bag to leave.  
\---------  
Rhysand walked all the way back to his townhouse in Burbank. Walked straight to the roof that overlooked the city. He sat in the wooden lawn chair that he occupied whenever he needed to think. 

The sun had started to set by the time Lucien got home and found him upstairs. Rhys didn’t know how long he had been sitting up on the roof, looking at the Los Angeles skyline, and contemplating the situation with Feyre. His boyfriend’s hands came to massage his shoulders. 

“What are you brooding about, love?” Rhys moved his focus from the skyline to look back at the redhead behind him. His violet eyes met Lucien’s russet ones--one. Rhys took his hand and kissed his knuckles. He brought Lucien’s hand down in front of him and fiddled with his fingers. 

“He dragged her off set today, and she didn’t come back.” Rhys tugged Lucien, and the latter came to sit in his lap, Luce’s legs thrown over one of the chair arms. 

“I ran into her as she was leaving,” Lucien said, running a hand through his boyfriend’s hair. “She was paranoid, but she didn’t look hurt.” Rhys let out a sigh of relief and nestled his head in the crook of Lucien’s neck. Lucien kissed his hair and squeezed his hand.

“I got us In-N-Out,” Lucien disclosed as he continued to run his fingers through Rhys’ hair. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” Rhysand murmured against Lucien’s neck. He began to place kisses up his boyfriend’s neck until he reached his mouth. He pulled away after a moment and placed his forehead against the other’s. “Thank you, Luce.” He rested his head again on Lucien’s shoulder. They stayed watching the skyline until the sun had set.

\--------

Feyre walked around downtown, the city night lights shining on her face, an iced tea in her hand, her eldest sister beside her. They chit-chatted about nonsense things as Elain and Nesta had when they were younger. Feyre didn’t have really any friends, and being able to talk to her sister was an experience she rarely had. They eventually sat down on a park bench overlooking a small pond in comfortable silence.

“Nesta, we need to talk,” Feyre said, breaking the silence. “About Tamlin.” Nesta nodded and continued to look at the pond.

“He’s been getting angry again. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe that if I was living with him, he wouldn’t be so paranoid? I’m really not sure. He punched a hole through our wall yesterday night... The worst part is that I got Rhys somewhat involved by talking to him and I feel bad. He shouldn’t be subject to Tamlin’s anger.” Nesta had raised her eyebrows at the mention of Rhysand Spera, but she nodded. “I can’t leave him, Nes. He’s the only reason that I have a job and a place to stay. I don’t even make enough money to get my own place, though he’d probably be angry at that I’d even entertained the idea.” Feyre shook her head and dropped it into her hands. “You and Elain are the lucky ones. You’re both stronger than me, and though Elain almost never shows, it’s because she has no need to. No one tests the sweet girl who loves gardening. And you, you’re just this force of nature. I wish I had your confidence.” 

Feyre didn’t notice the tears that stained her cheeks until a gust of wind blew across her face. She reached up to wipe them away, but Nesta had already pulled her into a hug. Her sister’s hand rubbed her back.

“It’ll be alright, little sister,” Nesta whispered in her ear. “You’ll be alright.”

\--------

Lucien laid on the couch with his arms around his sleeping boyfriend, one hand stroking his short black hair. Reruns of Friends played on the television. The empty bag of In-N-Out sat on the table. 

It was only 7pm, and the rest of their friends would be home for dinner soon, but Rhys had fallen asleep on the couch half an hour ago. Lucien didn’t have the heart to wake him up. Though before he had fallen asleep, Rhys had asked Lucien if he wanted to move in. Lucien had smiled and nodded. 

Lucien heard the door open, and whoever it was, likely Morrigan, walk from the entryway to the kitchen. There were noises of the fridge opening, and cabinets opening and closing. 

“Is anyone home?” she called, walking into the living room with her arms full of snacks. Lucien was holding a finger to his lips and gesturing to the sleeping Rhys. _Sorry_ , she mouthed back at him. He waved a hand, dismissing her apology.

Mor came to sit down in one of the leather chairs placed in the room. She laid her whole assortment of snacks down on the coffee table, minus the bag of popcorn which she began to eat as she watched the TV. 

“How is he?” Mor asked quiet enough not to wake Rhysand. Lucien’s hand paused its running through Rhys’ hair for a moment, but resumed when he spoke.

“He feels guilty,” Lucien frowned, his brows furrowed. Mor returned the frown. “He takes so much onto himself.”

“He doesn’t know how else to deal,” Mor replied. “But, you help him. You make him happy.” She paused for a moment. “Thank you.” Gratitude indeed shone in her chocolate brown eyes. 

Lucien waited for a minute, before saying, “Mor, I need your help with something.” She turned her attention back to him with raised eyebrows. Careful not to wake Rhys, Lucien began to explain the plan he had made while sitting in his office earlier in the evening.

Mor’s answering smile was brighter than the sun. She nodded her agreement before she stood up and made to leave, but Lucien grabbed her hand as she passed.

“Thank you,” he whispered, almost too quiet to hear. She gave his hand a squeeze and smiled down at him before walking through the house and out the front door.

\-----------

The Uber pulled up in front of the apartment that Feyre and Tamlin shared. Feyre wasn’t sure why he insisted on living in an apartment when he had a fortune, but never questioned his decision. She stepped out of the car, Nesta following after her. 

“You really don’t have to do this,” Nesta said behind her. Feyre shook her head as she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. Her eyes went immediately to the hole in the wall, and she fought her cringe. “Fey..” 

Feyre averted her eyes and walked to the kitchen, dropping her purse on the kitchen table on the way. She shuffled through the cabinets and fridge, and eventually pulled out a frozen pizza. She set the oven to preheat and leaned against the counter. 

Much like Feyre, Nesta’s eyes were glued to the fist-sized hole to the left of the television. Maybe she was right, maybe bringing Nesta here was a bad idea. Maybe. But she couldn’t help thinking that Tamlin wouldn’t lay a hand on her if Nesta was in the apartment. 

Feyre walked around to the living room and plopped down on the couch, grabbing the TV remote as she did. Nesta came to sit beside her, albeit much more elegantly. Feyre flicked on the television and looked for something to watch.

\-------

Nesta hadn’t known what to think when she had seen those pictures of her baby sister and the monster that was Tamlin Johnson. She knew he had been a possessive ass while they had dated in Uni, but Feyre had been somewhat free from him for a year until now. Besides the weekly phone calls to “make sure she wasn’t cheating”, Feyre had had a Tamlin-free senior year.

Nesta had actually thought that Feyre had cut him off and changed her number when he’d moved to Los Angeles, but she had likely been told that to keep her from hounding Feyre constantly. She’d never approved of Tamlin, but he had seemed to make her sister happy despite his minor bits of anger and possessiveness. 

It was getting out of hand. Her sister was afraid of her own boyfriend. She couldn’t force Feyre to do anything. Feyre didn’t have the funds to leave him which put her in a very codependent situation. Yes, this was very bad. 

Feyre had put on old episodes of Gilmore Girls and made them a pizza. Though made was a loose term. She really just heated it up in the oven. She was slightly jumpy, and looked to the door at every noise that came from outside.

In the middle of their third episode, Tamlin arrived. He was smiling as he walked into the apartment holding a bouquet of roses. He stopped in front of Feyre and extended the bouquet.

“Please, forgive me,” he said as Feyre stared at the roses. He glanced to Nesta who was still sat next to her sister, but averted his eyes at her narrowed ones. “It was out of line, I’m sorry.” 

Feyre looked as if she didn’t want to accept his apology, but she gave him a small smile and whispered, “Okay.” She stood and took the flowers from him. “I’ll just go… put these in a vase.” 

She carried the flowers into the kitchen and began looking for a vase. As soon as she had left the room, Nesta had grabbed Tamlin’s collar and put her lips to his ear.

“If you so much as lay a hand on her again, I will make you wish you’d never been born. Got it?” Tamlin didn’t look surprised, he looked as if he’d seen this coming. He nodded slowly. She shoved him away from her, and returned to her spot on the sofa. 

—————

Azriel walked down the street to where he was meant to meet Amren in 15 minutes. The sun had set hours ago. He knew he was probably missing dinner with his family, but Amren needed the intel he’d gathered. 

Az has gotten his P.I. license a month or so after leaving University. He’d worked for a firm in Las Vegas, about a 30 minute drive from his childhood home. Vegas was as you would expect, with affairs to investigate left and right. 

He’d gotten bored after 2 years of the same kind of cases, and Cassian was already planning to move to LA. He hadn’t told either of his brothers what he was doing for a living. Especially once Amren had approached him months ago with a task that would shake Hollywood. 

Tamlin Johnson was going bankrupt. The only person who really knew was Amren. She saw his paycheck every month and there was no way in hell that he’d be living in an _apartment_ with the money he made. And Tamlin wasn’t a humble kind of person, not like Rhysand. Tamlin was one to flaunt his money.

Azriel arrived at Rita’s and strode back to the booth that him and Amren occupied when he informed her of what he’d learned in the past week. Which wasn’t much, besides what he already knew. 

Except, he had seen Tamlin out with his girlfriend. Feyre Archeron. Azriel was still trying to figure out why she was with him. She was smart and kind and Tamlin was cruel and, frankly, not the smartest. 

Amren sat down across from him, a drink already in her hand. Her short black hair fell in front of her face, shielding her identity. 

“What did you find?”


	7. Chapter 7

_Now it’s big black cars and Riviera views_

Feyre did not want to spend the day with Tamlin. Though he had apologised last night, she still felt as if he would snap at any moment. They had been sitting on the couch last night when he began explaining what he had planned for their day off. As with sushi, Feyre often pretended to enjoy many things in order to keep Tamlin content.

Nesta had left soon after he arrived last night, claiming to be tired. Feyre knew it was really because she couldn’t stand being in Tamlin’s presence for more than 10 minutes at a time. She had hugged Feyre and left without ever speaking a word to him.

The sun was now rising. Little shafts of light streamed in through the semi-closed blinds. Feyre lay staring at the plain white ceiling. She didn’t know how long she stayed studying the details of the smooth plane when her phone started to buzz on the nightstand beside her. She quickly turned on her side, picked it up and swiped right to answer the call with a whispered _hello_.

“Hi, Feyre!” Mor’s peppy voice sounded in answer as Feyre carefully stood from the bed in order to not wake her sleeping boyfriend.

“I’m sorry if I woke you, but it’s 9:30 and I’m really an early riser.” Feyre walked to the kitchen and began to heat up water for her tea, a small smile playing on her mouth. 

“Anyways, I was calling to ask if you wanted to hang out or something today. Maybe help me run lines?” Mor’s voice trailed off a bit at the end, though Feyre couldn’t imagine why.

“What’d she say?” A muffled male voice asked. Mor shushed them, but Feyre heard her cover the speaker with her hand and say something indistinguishable. After a few seconds, Mor’s voice again filled her ear.

“Sorry, that was my cousin’s boyfriend. He’s trying to live vicariously through me because his only friends are his boyfriend’s family.” Feyre’s smile grew slightly at the muffled scoff that she heard Mor receive. “So, Feyre, what do you say? Want to take a chance at hanging out with Rhysand’s quote ‘Inner Circle’?”

For a moment, the only sound was the pouring of boiling water into the mug that Feyre had pulled from the cabinet. Feyre nodded, but as soon as she did, she realised Mor couldn’t see her.

“Yes, I think I’d like that,” she said into the phone, quickly enough that she didn’t have time to second guess herself. 

She could hear the smile in Mor’s voice as she replied with a “good” before saying goodbye and mentioning that she’d text Feyre the address of Rhys’ house. 

\---------

Lucien had sat at the kitchen island and listened to Mor and Feyre’s whole conversation. Well, Mor’s side of it anyways. Mor, whose face had lit up at whatever Feyre had said, now stood at the counter making a “protein shake”. Lucien had no idea when she had started eating healthy. 

Rhys came downstairs a few minutes after Mor had hung up the phone. Even though he had fallen asleep early last night, only waking to walk upstairs and fall right back asleep in bed, he still looked tired. His hair was sticking up in all different directions and he was still wearing his black jeans and t-shirt from the previous day. Mor tried to contain her laughter as he padded to the fridge.

“Feyre’s coming over today,” Lucien mentioned, looking over the edge of his coffee mug at his boyfriend. Rhys’ head whipped around, his eyes wide. Mor snickered as she poured her shake into a glass. She leaned back against the counter and stuck a straw in her drink.

“I may have invited her to hang out,” Mor shrugged as she took a sip from her pink straw. Rhys looked back and forth between Lucien and Mor, the former of which just shrugged, though a smile began to form on his face.

“And you knew about this?” Rhys pointed at Lucien as he said it, turning from the still-open fridge. 

“It was his idea.” Lucien nodded his agreement. “Might I add that we’re planning on making her an audition tape? Lucien phoned Helion’s office yesterday to let him know that he’ll be receiving it.”

Rhys shook his head, his hair falling in his face. And despite himself, despite the circumstances, despite what Tamlin may do, Rhysand Spera smiled. 

He smiled, as he crossed the room to his boyfriend and caressed Lucien's face. He smiled as he leaned down and kissed Lucien languidly. Lucien's hand slid up around his neck and under the collar of his shirt. Rhys hummed as he heard Mor promptly leave the room.  
\------------

Cassian watched the golden-brown haired girl walk through the park. She occasionally stopped to study some plant or other, before taking out her phone and, Cassian presumed, took a picture of whatever she had been observing. 

After a while, Cassian began taking pictures of his own. Not pictures of nature, no, he’d done enough of that in University and before he had started his business. Cassian snapped pictures of the girl. He felt like he was intruding, which he was, but he couldn’t help it. She was as gorgeous as she was fascinating.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar female voice snapped from in front of him. Cass must have zoned out because the girl now stood in front of him. Her gray-blue eyes looked as if a storm was brewing inside them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He blinked, lowered his camera from his eye, and pushed his glasses up onto his head. His mouth opened and closed multiple times. She just stood there with her hands on her hips, giving him a death glare. 

“I--um--I’m taking pictures?” Cassian’s words came out more like a question than a statement as he raised his camera with one hand and gave her a nervous smile.

“And _why_ would you be taking pictures of _me_?”

_Because you’re gorgeous._ He must’ve said it aloud because her cheeks turned ever so slightly pink before she turned around and began to walk swiftly away.

“Hey, wait,” he called, jogging a little to catch up to her. “What’s your name?” She sped up her pace a bit, though Cassian had no trouble keeping up. She glanced sidelong at him, and Cassian saw her brows furrow slightly.

“I’m Nesta.” Cassian smiled at his victory and she rolled her eyes.

“Cassian.” He stopped walking and stuck out his hand in offering. Her slender hand grasped it firmly, shook once, and though she tried to pull her hand away, Cassian didn’t let go. He held her hand and cocked his head slightly as he looked at her. 

“What?” Nesta’s eyes narrowed.

“I just didn’t think you’d actually shake my hand.” Nesta ripped her hand free and stormed off. Cassian didn’t follow her this time, his fingers were still curled as if her hand was still there as he watched her go.

\----------

Feyre stood, leaning against the kitchen counter with her elbows resting on the granite. She was contemplating whether or not she made the right decision in accepting Mor’s offer as she sipped her tea. How was she supposed to explain to Tamlin that she was blowing him off for a girl she had met only days ago?

Mor had texted her Rhys’ address after hanging up. She was going to drive over there and then her and Mor were going out to lunch. The latter hadn’t mentioned if Lucien or Rhys were tagging along, but Feyre guessed she didn’t much care whether or not they came.

“Hey, baby,” Tamlin said as he walked into the main room of the apartment. Feyre’s head snapped up from her phone where she was still texting Mor. “You ready for the day I have planned?” 

“Actually, Tam, I have a-” She paused, thinking of some excuse that he could possibly believe. “A job interview.” She paused again, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face was a mask of calm. “Yeah, I just want to be able to... you know... hold my own around here.” 

Tamlin began nodding, and rubbing his chin with one hand. He looked as if he was thinking deeply about something. He let out a deep breath, looked up at her, and said, “Okay.” She blinked. “Don’t look so surprised, it’s a good idea. We can go out some other time.”

He sat down on the couch and turned on the television. Feyre couldn’t help but let a small laugh escape her mouth as she returned to the bedroom to get ready.

\---------------

Azriel sat in his black Toyota Camry across the street from Tamlin’s apartment. He’d been sitting out there for 2 hours now, waiting for Tamlin to leave. It was 10 in the morning, and Tamlin had yet to exit his one-bedroom apartment. 

Just then, the door opened and Feyre walked out, closing the door behind her. Half of her long brown hair was tied up in a bun. She wore a short, denim mini skirt, a red blouse, and black sandals. Mor would like her. 

An Uber pulled up in front of her, and she climbed in. Az had no idea where she was going, no doubt Tamlin knew all the details. But she wasn’t who he was meant to be keeping an eye on, so he watched as the car drove away. A second later, his eyes flicked back to the balcony to find Tamlin watching the car drive away. 

Tamlin stood there for a few minutes, maybe hoping that she would return. He didn’t seem to notice the car parked across the street, but Az was there so often that he probably assumed it belonged to the owner of the house it was parked in front of. Eventually, he returned inside, the door slamming behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so cute tf

_Another name goes up in lights, like diamonds in the sky._

Rhysand Spera stood in the sitting room, hands in his pockets, looking out the large front window. He was most definitely not waiting for Feyre to arrive, oh no, he was just… admiring the residential street. 

“Your staring is not going to make her get here any faster,” Mor said as she strolled up next to him. “If anything, it’s very creepy. Wouldn’t want to scare off _Feyre darling_ , now would we?” She chuckled at the glare she got in response and plopped down on the sitting room sofa, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

“Get your feet off the table,” Rhys batted at Mor’s feet as he walked over to sit next to her on the sofa. Mor threw her hands up in mock surrender and put her feet on the floor. “Where’d Lucien go? He lives here now and this was his idea so I don’t know where he’s got off to.” Mor laughed at his clear anxiety over Feyre coming over, earning her a playful punch in the shoulder.

“Rhys, you’re acting like a nervous teenage boy,” Lucien’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Which, by the way, you haven’t been in 7 years.” He came to sit on Rhys’ right, kissing his boyfriend when he did. He pulled away much too quickly for Rhys’ liking, prompting the latter to pull Lucien in for another kiss, his fingers curling into the long red hair that flowed freely today. 

“Oh, look at that! Your girlfriend’s here!” Mor whacked Rhys on the back of the head as she stood to get the door. They pulled away and Lucien grabbed Rhys’ hand, pulling him through the doorway to the kitchen as they heard the front door open. “Feyre! It’s so good to see you! Sorry again for the early call this morning.” 

Rhys and Lucien sat down casually at the island, and Rhys propped his head on his hand as they waited for Mor and Feyre. Rhys’ head was turned toward the door, and his free hand fiddled with the family ring on his finger. 

Mor’s tinkling laugh rang through the house at something Feyre said before Lucien kissed behind Rhys’ ear and murmured against his skin, “Apparently, Feyre darling is a comedian.” Rhys roared with laughter and the conversation from the hallway stopped. Mor strutted into the kitchen, Feyre following behind her. Shit, she was gorgeous. 

“What the hell are you laughing about?” Mor inquired, her hands on her hips. 

Lucien suppressed a laugh at the huge cheesy grin on Rhys’ face as he said, “Oh, nothing, dear cousin. Little Lucien’s just playing comedian.” Lucien covered his eyes with a hand and laughed softly. Mor just rolled her eyes. 

\-----------

Feyre didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this. Lucien and Rhysand both sat in the kitchen doing seemingly nothing. When she had arrived, she didn’t even think they were home due to the quietness of the townhouse. 

That was another thing. Rhys and Lucien made millions from their jobs and yet they lived in a townhouse. She guessed she couldn’t question it. Tamlin made the same amount if not more than them, and her and Tamlin lived in an apartment. She shook off her thoughts of Tamlin and faced Mor.

“Where are we going for lunch?” she asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Mor turned away from the silent conversation she seemed to be having with Rhys to look at her.

“I was going to let you decide,” Mor replied with a smile that had joy emanating off of her. “Oh, and I hope you don’t mind if the two disgusting lovebirds tag along. They really need to get out of the house.” Rhys stuck out his tongue at her and Lucien just flipped her off before whispering something in Rhys’ ear that made him smile. 

“I really don’t know anywhere good,” Feyre shrugged and Rhys’ eyes lit up. She hadn’t noticed the tattoos that climbed up his arms in the few times she’d talked to him. They must’ve been covered by the long sleeves of his costumes, because they were clearly visible now that he wore a simple dark gray t-shirt.

“We could go to In-N-Out,” Rhys suggested, that stupid smile still on his face. Feyre watched as both Lucien and Mor rolled their eyes. 

“Excuse you, love,” Lucien said, wrapping his arms around Rhys’ waist and resting his chin on the his shoulder. Feyre had no idea how they were still in the honeymoon stage of their relationship, when they’d clearly been together for at least a year. “We had In-N-Out last night and if I remember correctly, you fell asleep at 7pm.” Rhys just shrugged and kept his attention on Feyre.

“Some other time then.” His gaze was piercing and Lucien winked at her. Feyre felt her face flush slightly. Her attention was pulled back to Mor at the mention of food. 

“Oh! We could go to California Pizza Kitchen!” Feyre smiled at the wild look in Mor’s eyes. Mor took that as a yes and grabbed Feyre’s hand, pulling her towards the front door. Rhys and Lucien followed behind after a few moments, whispering unidentifiable things to each other as they walked. 

\-----------

Azriel had followed Tamlin to the Spring Court Casino for the second time in 4 days. He’d left his apartment around 11am, pretty early to be gambling your money away, but the casino was open 24 hours a day. Azriel had struggled to get pictures of him actually playing due to the threat from security, but he knew his way around them from his days investigating in Vegas.

Tamlin always sat at the same poker table every time he came. Az wasn’t sure why he played poker, when he clearly sucked at it and was losing his fortune over it. Az was sure why he gambled at all. What motive did he have?

If anything, he had more of a motive not to. His girlfriend was relying solely on him for money and shelter and everything else she needed to survive. He could be trying to get more money, but with his job and social status he shouldn’t even need more money in the first place. 

Azriel had nothing to go on. That was until he saw the round of poker end and saw Tamlin leave the table, cash in hand. He followed the man outside and found him in the alley handing the money to a dark-haired middle-aged man in a suit, who in turn handed Tamlin a plastic bag. A plastic bag full of what looked to be cocaine. 

Azriel raised his phone to his ear as he passed, snapping pictures in the process. Trying to stay as calm as possible as he phoned Amren and requested to meet immediately.

\------------

After lunch, the four friends walked back to the townhouse. Feyre walked arm in arm with Morrigan, who jabbered on about life in the industry. Though everything she said went in one ear and out the other as Feyre watched Rhys and Lucien walk hand in hand down the street in front of her, their arms swinging.

They were so happy. They joked around and were _comfortable_ with each other. Feyre didn’t know if her and Tamlin’s relationship had ever been that easygoing. He had always been overprotective, even from the beginning. It was why she couldn’t tell him that she was hanging out with Mor. Especially since he had planned a day for them to spend together.

Though despite her worries about Tamlin, Feyre hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled this much, laughed this much. Her last year of college was lonely, and she was not looking to repeat it. So Tamlin didn’t need to know. 

Lucien laughed at something Rhys said and turned his head to look back at Mor and Feyre. The smile on his face was broad and unrestrained. Feyre couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the cheesiness of it, though there was sincerity in his eyes. The pair stopped, waiting for Feyre and Mor to catch up. 

“Dear Mor,” Rhysand began as he started to walk backwards slowly when the girls caught up. “Do you have anything else planned for darling Feyre?” Feyre’s cheeks turned slightly pink at the term of endearment. 

“Well it may be awfully boring, but I really do need to run some lines,” Mor said, turning to Feyre with a sympathetic look on her face. 

“No, no, that sounds fun actually,” Feyre smiled at her blonde-haired friend. “I want to be an actress, so I mean it’d be nice practice.” Tamlin supported her passion, her goal, but hadn’t done much to help her achieve that goal. Maybe...maybe Mor would. 

\----------------  
An hour later, Feyre was still running lines, but now with Rhys, who’d been very eager to step in when Mor got bored. Lucien sat in an armchair with his legs thrown over a side, laughing hysterically at his boyfriend who continually ad-libbed lines. Mor lounged on the couch eating a bag of crisps and filming the entire affair. 

“Rhys, quit it,” Feyre said, attempting to sound stern and hitting him with the script. “I’m trying to help you.” 

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood, Feyre, darling,” Rhys replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“You’re impossible,” she sighed and plopped back into the armchair behind her. Rhys immediately walked over and grabbed her hands. 

“Hey, I promise I’ll stick to the script,” Rhys smiled down at her. She clicked her tongue, but let him pull her out of the chair. He backed up from her a bit and Feyre felt his eyes on her. “Start wherever.”  
\---------- 

Feyre took a deep breath and said, “What do you want, Dorian?” Her voice had turned harder than it was a moment ago. Her eyes flicked down to the script, but quickly returned to Rhys’. Gods, her eyes were so blue. 

“You said you still wanted to be friends with me.” He took a small step towards her so that she had to look up at him to meet his gaze. 

Her eyes closed briefly before she said, “I meant it.” Rhys hid the small smile growing on his face. 

“So be my friend. Dine with me, play billiards with me. Tell me what books you’re reading--or buying.” 

“Oh? And you have so much time on your hands these days that you can spend hours with me again?” Feyre’s smile was forced, as it was meant to be, though faint amusement danced in her eyes. 

“Well, I have my usual flock of ladies to attend to, but I can _always_ make time for you.” Lucien snorted at that, and Rhys resisted the urge to shoot him a glare. 

“I’m truly honored.” Feyre batted her eyelashes up at him. “I actually need to go back to Rifthold right now.” Rhys nodded, his smile fading. Feyre crossed her arms as silence fell between them. Rhys took another small step forward and exposed his palms to her. 

“Do you want me to fight for you? Is that it?” Rhys was sure desperation shone on his face from the way Feyre’s eyes flickered with something like worry for a second, but then it was gone. 

“No, I just want you to leave me alone.” Feyre stared at him until Rhys walked away a few steps to stand behind Lucien. 

“You’re fucking good, Feyre,” Lucien said, breaking the silence. “Why the fuck aren’t you already a millionaire?” Feyre laughed and shook her head. The sound made Rhys’ heart swell. 

“I’m really not.” The other three all leveled the same “Are you kidding me?” look at her. “Okay, maybe I’m alright, but what am I gonna do about it?” They could tell her now. About Helion’s agency. About the audition tape. 

But they’d also decided that they shouldn’t get her hopes up, just in case he didn’t pick her up. So, Rhys, Lucien, and Mor just shrugged, and Feyre returned to her armchair, picking up the TV controller as she did. 

\------------------ 

Nesta spent most of the morning strolling through the park, secretly hoping that she would run into Cassian again. She didn’t. It wasn’t surprising. She’d probably scared him off. 

She had been rude and standoffish. She acted as she did whenever she wanted to block herself off from someone. But she didn’t really want to push Cassian away. She didn’t really care that he had been taking pictures of her, not after she’d seen his face. 

Cassian was unfairly attractive and he was _nice_. He didn’t act like Tomas had when she had first met him. Tomas was pushy and handsy. Granted, she had met him at a bar, but she wasn’t looking for anyone at the time. She wasn’t even sure how they started dating. 

Nesta now sat in a cafe by the window, running her finger along the rim of her coffee mug. Feyre had texted her to tell her that she had plans for the day and couldn’t spend time with Nesta. She hoped her younger sister had plans elsewhere from her overshadowing boyfriend. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” a man said from beside her. She glanced up to see Cassian looking down at her with a cheesy grin. His camera bag was crossed over his chest, and his glasses were atop his head. He slid into the chair across from her and propped his head on a hand. 

“Hello,” Nesta replied, taking a sip of her coffee. Cassian just looked at her as he did when she shook his hand. She averted her eyes from his and looked outside. 

“You’re not from here, are you, Nes?” 

“Don’t call me that,” she said firmly, turning back to him. His smile only grew, and she rolled her eyes. 

“What am I meant to call you then, _Nes_?” Cassian drummed his fingers against his jaw, bringing Nesta’s gaze to his lips briefly. 

“ _Nesta_ will do just fine thank you.” She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. Cassian smirked at her clear annoyance. 

“Can I take more pictures of you?” Her eyes flashed to his camera bag that he had set on the table and back to his eyes. “I already told you that you’re gorgeous, and pictures last longer.” A small smile played on Nesta’s lips. 

“When?” Cassian’s eyebrows raised. “I’m returning to New York in two days.” Cassian frowned a bit, as if disappointed that she was leaving. “And I still have to make sure my sister is alright.” 

Cassian didn’t question her about Feyre and Nesta was glad. She met him only hours ago, and he had no reason to know anything more than what she’d told him. He only smiled at her and slid her a piece of paper before standing from his chair. He winked at her as he grabbed his camera bag and walked out of the cafe. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Assault

_And your lover in the foyer doesn't even know you_

When they started their Harry Potter marathon, Rhysand and Lucien moved to sit on the sofa, Feyre sandwiched in between them. Mor had gotten up to go get snacks and had come back to both Lucien and Rhys struggling to keep smiles off their faces. 

Feyre had been rambling about some opinion about Harry Potter and both of the boys seemed content to listen to her speak all day long. But Morrigan handed Feyre popcorn and played the movie before she was able to test that theory.

Now, two movies in, Feyre was asleep. Completely unaware that in her sleep she had moved to where her head was on Rhys’ lap and her legs lay across Lucien’s. Rhys was currently resisting the urge to run his fingers through her hair and trying to focus on the movie. It wasn’t working.

He couldn’t see Feyre’s whole face, but she’d tied her hair into a bun earlier and he could see how relaxed she looked in sleep. Lucien’s forearms rested on her legs, but his hands were clasped together. Neither of them wanted to violate her privacy.

But then her phone rang. It was an obnoxious ringtone, honestly, and she jolted awake immediately. She sat up and reached for her phone on the coffee table. Rhysand saw who it was just before she slid to answer it. _Tamlin._

She stood up as she listened to him talk. Rhys had no idea what he was saying, but from the look on her face, it wasn’t good. She began to grab her things.

“No, Tam,” Feyre implored. “I’m out to dinner with Nesta.” She paused, listening to him once more as Mor stood from the chair she sat in and walked over to Feyre. “I’ll be home in a few minutes, promise.” Feyre looked slightly relieved as she lowered the phone from her ear and Mor grasped her hands.

“You do _not_ have to go back to him if you don’t want to,” Mor urged, looking into Feyre’s eyes intently. She shook her head and let go of Mor’s hands, walking to the entryway to slip on her shoes. Her three friends only followed after her. She looked between them then wrapped her arms around Mor, who returned the gesture immediately.

“Thank you,” she whispered, smiling slightly despite the situation. “For today.” When she pulled out of Mor’s embrace, her friends all shared similar faces of a combination of disgust and worry.

“Please call me when you get home,” Mor said as Feyre reached for the door handle. The latter turned and nodded with that same small smile. She then gripped, turned the door handle, and walked out of the only place she’d felt safe in months, maybe years.

\----------

Nesta didn’t know why she had agreed to go out with Cassian. She had texted him and asked if he was free for photography that night only moments after he’d left the cafe. They had gone back to the park, and he’d taken pictures, but refused to show her any of them. 

He’d then asked her if she wanted to go to dinner. Nesta hadn’t even had time to think before she’d opened her mouth and replied with a simple, _Yes_. Though, she hadn’t regretted her decision. 

They now sat in some Italian restaurant that he swore by. She found that she actually enjoyed his presence, when he wasn’t being an arrogant prick. It helped that he was gorgeous.

“Is that a habit of yours,” Cassian asked, gesturing to the finger that ran along the rim of her wine glass. She hadn’t noticed she was doing it, but stopped and placed the hand in her lap. 

He cocked his head to the side and said, “Tell me about yourself, lovely Nesta.” Her mouth twisted in distaste, but it faded as a thoughtful look took over her face.

“I work for a publishing company in New York,” she answered, setting her joined hands on the table in front of her. “I have two younger sisters. One just started a flower shop in Seattle, that’s Elain. And the another-” She frowned slightly as her brows furrowed. “Feyre just moved in with her boyfriend here in LA. She wants to be an actress.” Cassian blinked, but she took a sip from her glass when she finished. “And you?”

“I’m a self-managed photographer,” Cassian stated. “I’m from Las Vegas.” He paused, as if debating whether to say the next part. “I have two adopted brothers and a cousin who’s close enough to be like a sister. You probably know Rhysand Spera.” Nesta’s brows raised and he chuckled. “Yeah, Rhys’ parents took in me and my other brother, Azriel, when we were 8. Morrigan was round our house constantly. It was… great.” 

Nesta smiled, but sadness shone in her eyes. He was about to ask why, but then the waiter came to take their order.  
\------------

Feyre held in her tears until she got into the Uber. She had felt her friends watching her through the front window as she had stood at the edge of the sidewalk. Luckily, the driver didn’t question her or try to make small talk. 

Her hands shook slightly as she put her head in them. Maybe she shouldn’t have hung out with them. She’d known the whole time that Tamlin would eventually call and pull her out of the daydream she was in. That’s what today had been. Merely a daydream. One she would likely risk having again. 

Feyre had approximately 15 minutes to compose herself before she arrived at their apartment. She had called it home when speaking to Tam, but it felt more like a prison. One that Tamlin created. She was trapped. She relied on him for money and shelter and food. 

But...without him, she wouldn’t even be in LA in the first place. She should be grateful.

She sighed, wiped her tears away, and began cleaning up her mascara. She picked up her phone, intending to use her camera as a mirror when she saw texts from Rhys and Lucien.

Rhys:  
_Hey, I hope you’re okay._

Lucien:  
_I’m sorry we didn’t wake you up, you just looked so relaxed._

Rhys:  
_If it’s okay with you, we’d like to hang out again sometime._

Lucien:  
_Completely as friends, we’ll even invite Mor as well if you’d rather._

Feyre smiled a bit and replied with: _Sure, just let me know when._

She deleted the conversation, just in case Tamlin decided to go through her phone as he often used to. Especially when he was drunk. Though he’d gotten good at pretending to be sober, she knew how he sounded when he was faking it. And today, he’d been faking it.

She almost hadn’t walked out of Rhys’ townhouse today. Almost hadn’t returned to Tamlin. When Mor had said that she didn’t have to go back…. For a split second, Feyre had believed her. But that’s all it was, a split second. She knew logically that she couldn’t, for he would hunt her down if she did.

And so she’d walked out on the one good thing that had come into her life. 

The car pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment. Feyre took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. For a moment, she stood facing the street. She noted the black car with tinted windows parked across the way and furrowed her brows. _It must belong to the people who live there_ , she thought and shook her head, forgetting about it.

She turned and walked towards the building. Up the steps to her front door. She took another calming breath and put her key in the lock. She heard something inside and swiftly turned the handle.

“Tam, I’m home,” she called, pulling out her key and closing the door behind her. He stumbled out of their bedroom and into the main room. 

“Fayyyyruhhh,” he drew out her name and stumbled forward again. She moved quickly enough that she was able to catch him before he fell, though she could barely bear his weight. She walked him to the couch and let him fall onto it.

“Stay there,” Feyre commanded. “I’m going to get you some water.” She fought back the angry tears in her eyes once more as she walked to the kitchen.

When she returned moments later, he was waiting patiently for her. Though when she walked up to him to hand him the glass she’d filled, he grabbed the backs of her thighs. She almost spill the water due to the force with which he grabbed her.

“Do you love me,” he asked, though his words were slurred. He looked up at her. Those green eyes of his were bloodshot. He pulled her closer, his hands running up and down her thighs.

“Tamlin,” Feyre paused when he grabbed her butt. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Tamlin, you are drunk and you are high. And if you think I will sleep with you in this state, then you’re out of your fucking mind.”

“But… don’t you love me?” He asked her again, his face confused.

“I don’t know anymore,” she replied honestly. He seemed to become more lucid as she said that and pulled her down into his lap violently, spilling water everywhere in the process. The glass fell out of her hand and crashed to pieces as it hit the floor. She ignored the sting of tiny cuts around her ankles and feet, silently wishing she’d worn more practical shoes today

She tried to push herself off, but his grip on her hips held firm. He crashed his mouth to hers, and though she pushed him away, he continued kissing down her jaw and neck. 

“No, Tam, stop it.” She continued trying to get out of his grasp. “Let go. Tam, I don’t want-” His fingernails dug into her lower back and she fought back tears at the pain. 

She slapped him then. 

And proceeded to physically pull his face off her collarbone. 

He was too shocked to grab her as she pushed herself out of his arms and off of his lap. She took a few steps back. Enough space that, in his state, she would be able to get away if he began to come towards her. 

“I’m-” Feyre paused. She couldn’t leave, not forever at least. Only for the night. “I’m going to stay with Nesta for the night.” She grabbed her purse off the coffee table. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tomorrow. Yes, because she had work. Work that involved nothing to do with her dream. 

As she grabbed the doorknob, she looked back at Tamlin. He was looking at her as if- as if he’d never seen her before. She turned away and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. 

\-------------

Nesta was enjoying herself. Despite the sadness she felt over the childhood she’d lost due to her father’s alcoholism and the death of her mother. Cassian was funny and she secretly wished she could see his smile and hear his laugh everyday. But that wasn’t possible.

She needed to return to New York and her job on Friday. She couldn’t stay here, and Cassian couldn’t follow after her. She sipped her wine and was pulled out of her thoughts by the buzz of her phone. She quickly apologised to Cassian before standing from the table and picking up the phone, not checking the caller.

“Hello?”

"Nesta, it’s Feyre, clearly, um… Can I stay at your hotel tonight? Tamlin and I had a fight--"

“Yes, of course, I- Hmm well, Fey, I’m on a date right now.”

"Oh, alright well, it’s fine I’ll just, um, ring Mor or something.."

Nesta knew her sister would be fidgeting with the moon necklace she always wore.

“No, darling, it’s okay, we were just finishing anyway.” Nesta saw Cassian’s face flash in disappointment.

"Okay, um, then I’ll just meet you at your hotel."

“I’ll be there soon. I love you.” Feyre returned the sentiment and hung up the phone.

Nesta walked back to the table, opening her mouth to apologise, but Cassian cut her off.

“It’s fine. Your sister needs you.” He stood and moved to stand in front of her. “It’s been a pleasure spending time with you.” She froze when he kissed her cheek with soft, warm lips. He gave her hand a small squeeze and handed her her purse. 

“I’ll call you,” Nesta said, almost too quiet to hear. He smiled at her and gave her a look that said, _I know_. He then winked and she rolled her eyes as she turned away.

He felt his eyes on her as she walked away, resisting the urge to touch the cheek he’d kissed. Resisting the urge to go back and kiss him properly. Though when she exited the building, her hand drifted to run down that cheek.

\--------

Lucien sent the tape over to Helion’s office almost immediately after Feyre had left the townhouse. After they had watched her get in the car and ride away. Tarquin had confirmed that it had arrived and Lucien had smiled. He just hoped she would be okay with it if Helion picked her up. That she would be okay with them sending in an audition tape that she didn’t know about.

Mor had turned off Harry Potter, unable to continue watching without Feyre. Feyre, who had fit right in to their circle. Well, minus Cassian and Azriel. Though Lucien had no doubt they would love her. She’d filled a hole that no one realised was there. 

 

Rhys walked into the office, located off the main hallway, where Lucien now sat with his feet propped on the desk. He came with two glasses of what looked to be his most expensive whiskey. He moved a chair over next to Lucien, which faced the window, and propped his feet up on the table as well. He handed a glass to Lucien.

Rhys raised his glass slightly and whispered, “To Feyre.” 

“To Feyre,” Lucien whispered back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit NSFW teehee

The day after her.. Fight with Tamlin, she got a call from a magazine reporter named Amarantha. The woman had wanted to interview her on what it was like being Tamlin’s girlfriend. She was going to refuse, but it might’ve caused backlash against Tamlin. So, she’d agreed.

Though, a week after Feyre had hung out with the Inner Circle, she got a call from the Day Court Agency. She’d been a bit confused. A man named Tarquin had told her that she needed to come down and pick up her contract. More confusion.

So she’d gone down to the agency. They’d wanted to sign her. Her. Feyre Archeron. She hadn’t questioned it at first. She’d been about to leave with her contract when Tarquin had said something.

“I’m just glad Mr. Vanserra was right.” She’d paused at the office door and turned back around, looking confused. “You didn’t know that he sent in an audition tape for you?” Feyre had looked down at the contract and shook her head in disbelief. She’d thanked Tarquin quickly and walked out of the office.

She’d found it difficult to stay mad once she’d called Lucien, and he’d immediately started apologising profusely. She’d laughed and thanked him. They’d made plans for coffee that afternoon, during which they’d talked about the industry and life in general, though she didn’t mention what had happened that night the week before. 

She couldn’t tell anyone. Nothing had happened, not really. And Nesta had gone back to New York a few days before, so even if Feyre wanted to tell her sister, the hours Nesta had at work left little room for communication between them.

The next day was her interview with Amarantha. The woman was intimidating and, frankly, had more power over Feyre than she would’ve liked to admit. But the interview had gone well, and Amarantha had seemed impressed with her knowledge of the industry, not knowing she’d gotten it all from Lucien the day before. 

The week after that, Helion had requested to meet for headshots. Feyre had gone to the art studio that he’d sent her and met Cassian, who, she learned, was Rhys’ brother and had gone on a date with Nesta during her visit to LA. Nesta had spoken of him multiple times the day after, but never mentioned his name. 

Feyre had seen why her sister had liked him. He was funny, charming, and, she had to admit, unfairly attractive. Though he’d acted slightly odd when she’d spoken of his family. Cassian had smiled slyly at her from behind his camera, and when she’d asked him what it was about he shook his head and snapped more pictures.

A few days later, she’d had dinner at the townhouse. She’d met Azriel for the first time. Yet another brother that acted strangely, but it was different than with Cassian. Azriel was wary of her, and she’d felt him watching her throughout the meal. 

Afterwards, she’d cornered him and asked why. He’d scanned the room around them and reluctantly told her. Told her how he’d been investigating Tamlin. How her boyfriend was going bankrupt, gambling away his money and buying illegal drugs. She’d agreed to help him in his investigation.

That was the day the magazine published her interview.

It’d been a month since then. Feyre was still with Tamlin, if only to get intel for Az. Who had nearly enough information to bring the case to court. Tamlin been too caught up in work to even notice her absence, or her snooping around.

She’d gone to two commercial auditions, for which the Day Court had set her up. She hadn’t gotten either of them, but Mor had told her not to lose hope. No one got it on their first try, let alone second. 

Feyre spent more time at Rhys and Lucien’s townhouse than she did in her own apartment. She was over for dinner almost every night. They rarely brought up Tamlin in conversation, his name was like a swear word. Which was good. Feyre didn’t know if she’d been able to keep the investigation a secret otherwise. 

They made her happy. Rhys, Lucien, Mor, Cassian, and Azriel made her happy. Her time spent with them was carefree, light, relaxed. When she’d first come here, Tamlin had been an overbearing weight on her shoulder, but now, at least in their presence, Tamlin was merely a memory.

A memory, much like the daydream she’d had weeks ago. The daydream that was now within her reach. 

\-------------

It was a Friday night, and the dream team was going clubbing. They’d gone a few weeks before and Mor had been begging Feyre since then to go again. She’d finally agreed, on the terms that they would get drunk enough to not remember. Azriel had taken the night off from whatever he was doing in order to be their designated driver.

Mor had texted Rhysand to let him know that she was picking up Feyre and that they’d be there soon. She’d almost convinced him to order a limo, but settled for Rhys’ black Tesla. He’d bought it when he'd crashed his old one, but rarely ever drove it.

Cassian had made their mother’s macaroni & cheese, so that they weren’t forced to eat shitty club food. While it was delicious, it wasn’t as good as when their mother made it herself. Rhys hadn’t seen her in years. Not since he’d left Vegas.

Mor and Feyre arrived right as it was done and jesus fucking christ. Rhysand had it so bad for Feyre Archeron. From the way Lucien looked her up and down, multiple times, he knew the redhead felt the same. Feyre had noticed their stares, if her blushing cheeks were any indication. 

Her short, deep blue, sparkling dress hugged her curves perfectly. No doubt Feyre had gone shopping with Mor in the past few weeks and found it in one of the boutiques that the latter frequented. Her hair was piled atop her head, though small curled bits framed her lovely face.

“I see you’re starting the drinking early,” Feyre teased, gesturing to the gin and tonics both Lucien and Rhys had. She placed her purse on the island as she sat down in her usual chair between Rhys and Lucien. Mor pushed herself up onto the countertop next to the stove, which earned her a shooing motion from Cass. She merely moved farther away.

“Well, Feyre darling,” Rhys drawled, raising his glass towards her. “I’d like to enjoy at least one nice drink before having to endure cheap beer.” He winked at her and sipped his drink. She rolled her eyes and turned to Lucien.

“Your boyfriend is dreadfully spoiled,” she said and heard Rhys gasp in mock offense behind her. Mor had stolen a bowl of mac & cheese and trying to avoid Cassian’s reach as she took a bite.

“Oh most definitely,” Lucien assured, looking over Feyre’s shoulder slightly to see the incredulous look on Rhysand’s face. “But I love him anyways.” Rhys smiled at him, but Lucien noticed a flash of longing in Feyre’s eyes, so quick he thought he imagined it. 

She turned her attention to Cassian, propping her elbows on the counter in front of her. “Cass, we’re starving here, chop chop.” She clapped her hands together. Mor swiped another bowl of food and put it in front of Feyre.

“Hey, what about us,” Rhys protested, his mouth gaping.

“You didn’t ask,” Mor stated, taking another bite of her mac & cheese. Lucien threw up his arms in exasperation. 

“Here, you greedy bastards,” Cassian said, placing bowls in front of both Lucien and Rhysand. Feyre bursted out laughing at how fast they both scarfed down their food. Lucien thought he could he could hear that laugh everyday for the rest of his life and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

Azriel entered the kitchen a few minutes later and scooped the last of the mac & cheese into his own bowl, much to the dismay of his friends. Feyre stood after the banter had ceased, bringing her bowl to the sink. 

“Quickly now, _darlings_ ,” she said as she grabbed her purse and began walking towards the doorway. She brushed her hand across Rhys’ back as she passed. Rhys let out a breath at the shivers it sent through him. Lucien chuckled at his attempt to stay still. “Wouldn’t want anyone to take our booth.” Cassian howled with laughter and the rest of them soon followed.

Feyre turned her head, giving both Lucien and Rhys a cheeky grin, and proceeded to walk confidently out of the room. Mor, Cassian, and Azriel snickered at the raised eyebrows and wide eyes on Rhysand and Lucien’s faces. 

“I wasn’t fucking kidding! We’re actually going to be sitting in a booth that is sticky with beer if we don’t leave in the next ten minutes!” Feyre called from the foyer. Needless to say, Rhys and Luce were at her side within seconds. 

“Oh, good, my two favourite boys.” She linked an arm through each of theirs with a smile. “Now if everyone else would get their asses in here.” Feyre raised her voice enough for the three others to hear. Lucien and Rhys both ducked their heads behind hers, sharing the same surprised, but delighted look. 

“Whatever you two are mouthing behind my back better not be sexual, I’d rather not be informed of your fantasies.” That was a complete and utter lie, but they bought it.

“Oh no, nothing like that, love,” Lucien assured her with a wink. She nodded her approval as the rest of their group arrived. 

“Finally,” Feyre began walking forward, taking Lucien and Rhys with her. “Let’s go have some fun.” Her smile was blinding as they walked out the door.

\------------

They’d indeed gotten to their table before anyone else. They’d now been at the club for hours, and Feyre Archeron was drunk, though she still had full control of her body. Her and Mor had gone and danced a bit, but Feyre had played wingwoman and scored Mor a lady friend to dance with. 

So now she sat with Lucien and Rhys at their booth, swirling her beer in its bottle. The two of them were noticeably less drunk, even though they’d started drinking sooner than she. She was sure they’d been making out while she’d been gone with Mor due to the fact that Lucien’s shirt was unbuttoned more than it was before, and Rhys's hair was sticking up in some places. 

“Feyre,” Lucien whispered in her ear, taking her attention away from her thoughts and making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “Do you want to dance?” She turned to look at him and his face was inches from hers.

“Sure,” she breathed. He took her hand, guiding her out onto the dance floor. 

Rhysand watched as his boyfriend walked with Feyre, feeling slightly jealous that he hadn’t asked her himself. He’d planned on it, but Lucien had other ideas, apparently. He looked back at Rhys with a smirk. 

Lucien had stopped just within the midst of the other dancers, giving Rhys almost a direct view as he put his hand around Feyre’s waist. She tilted her head back and laughed at whatever Lucien had just said to her, though the sound was lost in the noise of the club. 

Rhys didn’t intend to be turned on by his boyfriend dancing with Feyre Archeron, and he wasn’t.. until they’d actually started dancing. He could tell Lucien was enjoying himself immensely. Rhys sat forward and propped his head on his hand, his eyes never leaving them.

\-------

Lucien had felt Rhys’ eyes on him and Feyre since the moment they’d left the table. His hands roved up and down her back as she moved to the music. She reached her arms to the ceiling at one point, her head tilting up slightly, her eyes closed. The lights illuminated her freckles, making them glow. Her arms came down, and her hands joined around his neck. 

She’d pulled him close enough that he could whisper in her ear, “You know you look beautiful like that...so carefree.” She huffed a laugh, but he saw her cheeks flush. She rested her forehead against his, smiling.

“Your hair is so soft,” she whispered back as she curled a piece around her finger. They continued swaying slowly like that for a bit before her brows furrowed slightly.

“What?” he asked, his hands pausing their movement.

“It’s nothing, just--” She cut herself off and thought for a moment. “Can I kiss you? I know you’re with Rhys but I--” His lips gently pressed to hers, cutting her off. He heard distant clanging, likely from Rhys’ elbow slipping off the table. He pulled away and Feyre was smiling.

“I was going to say that I like Rhys as well,” she moved her hands so she could braid a strand of his hair. “But you didn’t let me finish.” He pulled her closer and his hands tightened on her slightly as they began dancing again.

“Maybe I don’t want to share you yet, love.” One of his hands moved to push back hair that had fallen out of her bun. Her exquisite smile grew.

\---------

Lucien had fucking kissed her. Rhys almost let his jealousy drive him to intervene, but then they’d started dancing again. Lucien’s hands roamed to her ass and hers were either in the air, in Lucien’s hair, or running down his face. The hot air of the club became close to stifling when she started kissing his boyfriend’s neck. But was he going to stop her? No. 

He was just about to go get a round of shots when Feyre started walking towards their booth, looking tired, but content. Her hand was in Lucien’s and was pulling him behind her. She reached the booth and slid in on Rhysand’s right, close enough that their thighs were touching.

She leaned in and pressed her lips to Rhys’ ear. “Did you enjoy watching Lucien and I?” He turned his head so his violet eyes were looking into her blue ones. His eyes were slightly wide as he looked between them. He swallowed. “Hmm, yes, I thought so.” 

She cocked her head to the side, and her hand ran up Rhys’ arm. His eyes flicked to her lips and back up to her eyes. Her hand caressed his cheek before she pulled his lips to hers. He felt as if fire thrummed in his veins. She pulled away faster than he would’ve liked.

Lucien appeared with shots galore, which each of them gladly took before Feyre straddled Rhys’ lap. She kissed his lips before beginning to trail kisses down his jaw and neck, sucking slightly as she went. He moaned as Lucien kissed him and Feyre slid her hand up his shirt at the same time.

Mor clicked her tongue. The three pulled away from each other to see her standing with a martini in hand. Feyre slid slightly out of Rhys’ lap, her legs thrown over his thighs as she leaned back against Lucien.

“It seems you two got what you wanted,” Mor smirked and sat down at the end of the booth. “Now, I’m tired, so do any of you know where Az or Cass are?” As if on cue, Azriel came stumbling over while holding Cassian up. He jerked his head towards the door, and Mor gulped down the rest of her martini.

Feyre held both Lucien and Rhysand’s hands as they walked towards the exit. 

\------------

Rhys sat in the back seat with Feyre between him and Lucien, as it always had been. But things were different now. A good different. She still held their hands as her head rested on Rhys’ shoulder. As if she was scared that if she let go, she’d lose them forever. She had no idea that neither of them would even dream of it.

“Rhys?” Feyre whispered in the silence of the car, her eyes still closed.

“Hm?” He turned his head to look down at her face.

“Is your hair soft?” He chuckled softly at the question. “Cause Luce’s is suuuuuper soft.” Rhys pressed a kiss to her hair.

“You can feel it later, if you still want to in the morning.” She frowned though she murmured an okay back before falling silent again. The rest of the ride was quiet, and Rhys was sure that Feyre had fallen asleep.

Feyre stirred when they parked and Cassian stumbled out the passenger side and collapsed. Azriel sighed and went to pick him up off the ground. Mor got out, seemingly unfazed by the amount of alcohol she drank. 

Lucien pressed the button to open his door before stepping out. He reached back in and put an arm under Feyre’s knees and around her back. He lifted her out of the car, and she subconsciously wrapped her arms around his neck. Rhys offered to carry her instead but Lucien dismissed him with a shake of his head. 

Lucien carried her up to the room across from his and Rhys’s that she’d occupied frequently in the past few months when Tamlin was drunk and unstable. Both him and Rhys cursed the man each time. And hoping maybe she’d finally leave him, but she’d always gone back. Despite all he put her through.

Rhysand trailed behind him as he set Feyre down on her bed. She instinctively curled into a ball, her heels still on. 

“Love, you can’t sleep in your party clothes,” Lucien whispered to her. She groaned, but sat up and walked to her wardrobe. She shooed them off while she changed and took out her hair. When she was done, she walked across the hall to their room. 

“Not alone,” she shook her head and crawled into bed between them. 

“But, darling-”

“Shh. It’s sleepy time.” Feyre murmured, cutting Rhys off. She rolled over and wrapped her arms around Lucien and nestling her head in his shoulder. Lucien took the hand that lay over his stomach in his. Rhys sighed and put an arm over her, his face in her hair.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Assault oof

_‘Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used._

Feyre woke up to both Lucien and Rhysand’s arms over her and a throbbing headache. She twisted slightly and gently moved out of their hold, though she never wanted to leave. Tamlin would likely wake up soon, and if she wasn’t there he’d throw a fit.

She wasn’t surprised when neither of them woke to her movements. She climbed carefully over Rhys and placed her feet on the floor. She reached up to push back a piece of her hair, brushing her face and realising she hadn’t taken off her makeup from last night. 

Feyre sighed, walking across the hall to her room and into its adjoining bathroom. While looking at her disheveled self in the mirror, she turned the faucet to hot. Feyre rubbed away her makeup, contemplating how she was going to breakup with Tamlin. 

She hoped he wouldn’t lash out at her, but the possibility was very likely. Her mouth twisted in distaste at the thought. She grabbed a towel from behind her and patted her face dry. She then pulled her hair up into a bun and began padding downstairs. She needed coffee if she was going to face Tamlin.

When she reached the kitchen, she grabbed ibuprofen from the cabinet and began brewing her coffee. She grabbed cream from the fridge and sugar from a different cabinet, setting them on the counter beside the coffee maker. 

Once she’d poured a mug and added an excessive amount of sugar, she headed back up to her room. She paused in the doorway for a moment, looking across at Rhys and Lucien who still lay peacefully asleep. She smiled before going to change. Soon. Soon she wouldn’t have to leave like this and would be able to stay here.

She’d left clothes in the wardrobe, frequently, for times like these. When Tamlin had been too drunk to notice her existence, and she’d stayed the night here. There’d be no more nights like those. Not after today. 

After changing, Feyre went back across the hall. She walked to Lucien’s side and nudged him a little. His eyes didn’t open, but he shifted enough that she knew he was awake. She then bent down to his ear.

“I have to go deal with Tamlin,” Feyre murmured, careful not to wake Rhys. Lucien hummed in response, and moved his hand slightly to brush hers. 

She stepped away, pausing to look at them one more time before she ended what she should have ended months ago. Feyre then turned and walked away from them for the last time.   
\------------

Feyre had had a bad feeling about what she was about to do since she’d walked out of the townhouse. Though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the rare summer rain shower that wasn’t in the forecast. Or the god-awful traffic on a late Saturday morning. Either way, Feyre pushed the feeling down and down until she believed that she’d imagined it.

When the taxi pulled up to her soon-to-be former apartment, her stomach dropped slightly. 

Azriel’s car was nowhere to be seen. He was usually there early in the morning, watching. Since even before she’d agreed to work with him, Azriel had always been outside watching when she was inside with Tamlin. The fact that he wasn’t there scared the shit out of her.

Feyre paused as she stepped out of the car, watching the balcony. Maybe he wasn’t there, maybe she could just get her things and go. That would explain Azriel’s absence. She took a steadying breath and walked up the sidewalk and stairs up to the door. She jiggled the doorknob, open. Feyre turned the handle slowly and stepped inside. 

The hole in the wall from what felt like a lifetime ago had still yet to be fixed. She noticed it every time she was there. She winced slightly at the sight of it. The whole apartment was in slight disarray. She had stopped bothering to fix what he would just mess up again.

“Tamlin?” She called into the space, which was dark except for the light streaming in from the window. Feyre was not willing to wait for him to wake up, as she had texted Mor upon her arrival to send help if she didn’t call her within the hour. She therefore stormed to the bedroom they had once shared in a sudden burst of confidence

“Tamlin, get up, we need to talk.” Feyre raised her voice as she stood a few feet away from the bed, her hands on her hips. He sat up in response to her voice, his eyes flying open. “You no longer have any hold over me.” She paused before looking him directly in the eyes. “We’re over, Tamlin. I’m going to get my things and go.” She began walking to the closet, but his hand was gripping her arm in an instant.

“You can’t just leave me, Feyre,” Tamlin growled, his fingers pressing in hard enough to bruise. “I love you. I _need_ you.”

Feyre bit back a retort and instead ripped her arm away, pressing her lips into a thin line. He stood frozen in shock as she reached the closet, opening the door and pulling out the remainder of her clothes.

She’d never fought back before. Never shown any sort of willpower. She’d always stayed quiet and submissive, at least while he was sober. He seemed to forget any initiative she’d ever taken while he was high or drunk.

As Feyre started to turn around, Tamlin’s hand slammed into the wall beside her head. She couldn’t help it as she flinched. He moved so that his face was inches from hers.

“Did you not hear what I said, you slut? You can’t just _leave_ me.” He paused for a moment his brows furrowed. Feyre swallowed visibly. “I have paperwork to do at the studio, so I guess I’ll have to leave you here.” She started to sigh with relief, but then his hand slid into her back pocket, and her breath caught.

She wanted to scream for help, but no one would hear her. She prayed to whatever gods were listening for him to just let her leave. No gods were listening that day. 

He removed his hand, her phone grasped in it. He began to step backwards, but she lunged for it as she pleaded, “No, Tamlin. You can’t just-” Tamlin’s hand was around her throat, his fingers pressing in once more. 

“I can do whatever the hell I want.” He held up her phone. “I need this so you can’t go and text your little boy toys for help.” Feyre’s eyes widened in horror. “Ah yes, don’t think I didn’t notice your little sneak outs. You’ve had your fun, but now you need to remember that you’re mine.” He brushed his thumb along her jawline. She squeezed her eyes shut as he kissed her mouth in mock gentleness before releasing her neck.

Before she caught her breath, Tamlin walked swiftly out of the closet and shut the door behind him. She rushed to it, hoping to escape before he’d placed something in front, but when she pushed the door, it didn’t budge.

“Tamlin!” she shouted through the tears already streaming down her face. She banged on the door until she heard the front door slam, her hand stopping as she pressed her forehead to the door.   
Her hand dropped, and she slid to the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head atop them, tears staining her leggings.

\---------------------

It had been too long. Feyre hadn’t texted. She hadn’t called. She hadn’t sent Mor any indication that she was alright. Mor waited. She waited, checking her phone constantly for something from Feyre.

Mor wouldn’t risk calling her herself. Not if she was still in that apartment with him. She called Rhys to ask if he’d heard from her, but she had woken him up, and Lucien hadn’t heard from her either.

So Mor got in her car and drove as fast as possible to Tamlin’s apartment. She wasn’t sure if he was still there, but Mor didn’t care as she stormed up to the door. It was locked. Alright then, she’d just have to pick the lock.

She pulled a pin from her hair and stuck it into the lock. She twisted and turned it until _click_. Mor practically blew the door off its hinges with the force she used to open it. _No one_ was going to hurt her best friend.

The apartment was seemingly empty. Mor noticed the hole in the wall and winced. She moved to the bedroom and there it was. The door to the closet was blocked with a nightstand. The lamp that had been formerly atop it was now broken on the floor beside the bed. 

“Feyre?” Mor said, taking a step toward the closet. A muffled sound came from inside and she rushed to move the nightstand. 

She opened the door to find Feyre in a ball on the ground. A small noise escaped her as she kneeled to the floor and wrapped her arms around her friend. Feyre shook as Mor rubbed circles on her back.

“Shhhh, it’s alright, you’re free.”

\---------------

When Feyre came home, her arm and neck bruised, Rhysand was not having it. Mor had neglected to tell him that Feyre had gone to see _Tamlin_ in her phone call to him earlier. He hadn’t even known that Feyre had already left the townhouse.

Rhys rushed down the stairs at the sound of the door opening, Lucien following behind him, to find Feyre and Mor, the latter’s arm linked with the former’s. Feyre’s eyes were puffy from the now dried tears that stained her cheeks. 

She dropped Mor’s arm and walked to Rhys, whose face was overcome with thinly veiled rage. Her arms encircled his abdomen, her face burying itself in his chest. He felt her breathe in deeply as he pulled her closer to him, as if trying to memorise his scent.

“What happened?” Lucien asked, the question directed at Mor though he watched Feyre closely. His voice was lined with guilt. He knew she was going to settle things with Tamlin. He should’ve insisted that he go with her. But he hadn’t.

Mor drew her eyes away from Feyre to look at Lucien, her face contorted in the same rage that lined Rhys’ face. “He...He took her phone, and he locked her in the closet.” Rhys’ head snapped up from where it had been resting atop Feyre’s. He stepped gently away from Feyre, kissing her brow once before stalking for the front door. Mor grabbed his arm before he reached it.

“Rhys, wait. He--” 

“He what, Mor? What more could he have possibly done?” Rhys hissed. All he could see was red.

“He knows I’ve been spending time with you all, or at least you and Lucien,” Feyre replied, turning around, her arms crossed over her chest defensively. “You can’t just go up to him, expecting him to just let you speak. He’ll fire you, if he wasn’t already going to.”

“Good thing I was already going to quit.” He ripped his arm from Mor’s grasp and reached the door. He opened it and stormed out into the pouring rain.

“Rhys, you can’t just throw your career away for me,” Feyre protested as she chased after him, Lucien on her tail. He stopped in his tracks, and Feyre nearly slammed into his back. He turned towards her slowly.

“I can do whatever the hell I want, Feyre darling.” Rain was soaking their hair and clothes. He didn’t dare reach up to touch her cheek, she probably would’ve grabbed his hand in midair.

“You’re acting like Tamlin,” Lucien spat from beside Feyre, water sliding down his face.

“ _Do not_ compare me to him,” Rhys growled, flinging a finger at his boyfriend. Feyre indeed reached up slowly to grasp his hand. His eyes lowered to hers, his face softening. His hair clung to his forehead.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered, her eyes pleading. She lowered their joined hands and squeezed his. The three of them were soaked to the bone, and she began shivering slightly from the cold of it. Her lovely face contorted in anguish. “Please.” Rhys frowned slightly.

“I’ll be back before you know it, darling.” She dropped his hand, her brows furrowing. His heart panged with guilt at the tears that threaten to spill out of her eyes as she turned and walked back into the house. He thought maybe tears had already fallen, but they merely blended in with the rain.

“Don’t get yourself fucking killed,” Lucien warned. Rhysand opened his mouth to say something but Lucien cut him off, holding up hand, his russet eyes hard. “Don’t. Just come back in one piece. If not for my sake, then for hers.” With that, Lucien followed Feyre back inside, leaving Rhys alone on the driveway.

\-----------

Rhysand had waited until Lucien had closed the front door before getting in his car and driving to Prythian Studios. He thought had noticed Mor in the front window, her arms crossed and her face hard. 

The rain had yet to cease. Rhys didn’t care that he was soaking wet as he marched into Tamlin’s office. He paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“Before I begin, I’d like you to know that I quit,” Rhys stated, and Tamlin bristled in his desk chair. Rhys took a step forward, dripping water on Tamlin’s precious carpet. He closed his eyes, his face a mask of lethal calm, and pointed an accusing finger at Tamlin. “You do not get to control her. Not now, not ever.”

“She’s mine, Rhysand,” Tamlin hissed, his eyes like emerald flame. He stood slowly from his seat. He stepped slowly around to the side of the desk.

“No, she’s not. Because she’s not an object, Tamlin. She’s not a prize to be won.” Rhys shook his head, struggling to keep his feet planted to the spot. “Do not contact her again.” Too swift for him to dodge it, Tamlin’s fist connected with his face. Rhys threw up his hands as he staggered backwards a bit.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Rhys warned. Tamlin’s forearm jammed into his throat and pushed him into the wall. 

“Nothing you say matters. I love her and there’s nothing you or your filthy boyfriend can do about it,” Tamlin spat in Rhysand’s face. 

He saw red for the second time today as he grabbed Tamlin’s elbow in one hand and his wrist in the other. He bent Tamlin’s forearm backwards, causing him to swear in pain. He grabbed Tamlin’s jaw, forcing him to look Rhys in the eye.

“ _Lucien_ happens to be your boss, so I’d watch your tongue if I were you. Though he’s no doubt already found your replacement,” Rhysand divulged, side stepping so he was once more in the doorway and releasing Tamlin. Lucien had likely forgotten his position above Tamlin, but it took no more than a word from him to send Tamlin packing. “Where’s her phone?”

Tamlin pointed to his desk. Rhys walked over and picked up Feyre’s phone from atop his desk. He began to walk away, but stopped one last time in the doorway and looked back at Tamlin, whose fists were clenched at his sides.

“Goodbye, Tamlin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter omg i'm screaming oof


	12. Chapter 12

_And your secrets end up splashed on the news front page._

When Rhys got home, Feyre was pissed off, but she fussed over him anyways. She sat him at one of the bar stools and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer. He watched her as she took a hand towel from the drawer beside the sink and wrapped the ice pack in it. Feyre shoved it into his hand and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. 

She’d changed into dry clothes, short cotton shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, which both Lucien and Rhys had taken as an opportunity to stare at her legs. Lucien had gone to gather the rest of her things for her, if only so that she wouldn’t have to set foot in that horrid apartment ever again. Feyre didn’t know where Mor had gone, but she’d left even before Lucien.

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said, raising the pack to his face. He winced at the sudden cold. “I couldn’t just let him get away with it. He hurt you for so long, Feyre.” Feyre sighed and sat down next to him. 

“But now he’s hurt you too,” Feyre said softly, running a hand down her face. 

“It’s nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied, glancing sidelong at her. She shook her head and leaned back against the counter.

“I know that, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying about you.” He spun to face her, and nudged her leg with his knee. Rhys set the ice pack down on the counter beside him as she turned to face him. He set his hands on her knees and looked into her blue eyes.

“I won’t leave you. Not ever.” Feyre looked at him like she didn’t believe him. “I promise.” She looked down at his thumbs that brushed gently over her bare knees. 

“Hey.” He lifted her chin with one hand to meet her gaze once more. “I _promise_.” His thumb brushed over her lips before he pressed his lips to hers. “Promise,” he murmured once more against her lips.

She whispered an okay back before her fingers tangled in his short hair as she kissed him back, her tongue running along his bottom lip. Rhys’ hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer until she sat in his lap, her already scandalous shorts riding up. His hands came down to cup her ass, and her ankles crossed behind his back. Rhys’ moan was cut off by a low whistle.

Feyre lifted her head back and groaned, “Luceeee.” She rested her chin on Rhys’ shoulder leveling an annoyed look at her boyfriend in the doorway. Said boyfriend smirked and strided over to her and Rhys. Feyre lifted her head and Lucien planted a quick kiss to her mouth. Rhys tilted his head back so Lucien could kiss him as well.

“Your things are in your room, love,” Lucien stated as he walked to the fridge. “By all means, continue.” He flicked his hand before grabbing a container of grapes. He smiled at them as he popped one into his mouth. His boyfriend and girlfriend resumed making out.

Uncomfortable, they moved to the living room couch. Rhys sat back against the cushions, Feyre still straddling his lap as her hands slid up his damp shirt. She pulled away for a second, clicking her tongue and scrunching up her nose.

“Either you go change and we continue after, or I just take off your shirt and pants,” Feyre ventured. Lucien snickered from his arm chair a few feet away at Rhys’ wide eyes and raised brows. “Option 1 or 2. Make a decision before the time’s up.” Rhys sputtered, unable to form words. “Oh dear, looks like time is up. I choose option one, go change.” She climbed off of him, and he practically ran out of the room.

A second later, she turned to Lucien, feigning innocence. “I’m bored. Got any ideas of how we could pass the time?” Feyre twirled a piece of hair around her finger, and Lucien set down his container of grapes.

“A few,” he shrugged. “But you’ll have to come over here to find out.” Ever the sly fox. 

She stood from the sofa and walked the short distance to where Lucien sat. He wrapped his hands around the back of her thighs, pulling her closer till her knees hit the chair. Then he looked up at her with mischief in his eyes.

“You look very pretty from this angle,” Lucien smirked. She did indeed. Feyre’s hair was falling around her face like a curtain as she peered down at him with a smile.

“Well I’m sure I do, though _I_ happen to think I look pretty from _every_ angle.” Her face was a mask of innocence, though Lucien was sure her thoughts were far from it. Her breath hitched slightly as Lucien stood, his body sliding up against hers. His face was mere centimeters away from hers.

“Hmm, we’ll just have to test that theory won’t we,” he whispered in their shared breath. He scanned her face and body best he could, his eyelashes brushing her cheeks, then his gaze returned to hers. “Yes, still pretty from this angle.” His fingers spider-walked up her sides, sending chills down her spine. His fingers reached her hair, and he ran his fingers through it as his eyes flicked to her lips. 

He closed the space between them, his lips still as warm and soft as they’d been last night. Her hands once more tangled in his long, fiery red hair as his hands ran back down to her waist, brushing teasing fingers along the skin just above her waistband.

He began kissing along her jaw, up to her ear, which he nipped at with his teeth. She yanked on his hair in response, causing him to loose a shuddering breath in her ear. “Still gorgeous.” 

Feyre bit back a yelp as Lucien bent down and lifted her up into his arms. He sat back in his chair, Feyre now sitting across his lap, her legs thrown over the chair arm, her arms around his neck. Feyre planted a kiss on his mouth before beginning to suck her way down his neck. Lucien moaned, one hand squeezing her thigh lightly. 

She slid her hands up his shirt and ran them along his abdomen before releasing his neck and pulling up his shirt. He swiftly removed it and captured her lips once more, her hands reaching up to pull his face down. One of his hands began teasing her waistline once more, the other began running up and down her thigh.

“Now that’s just not fair,” Rhys grumbled at the sight of his boyfriend and girlfriend making out. True, he’d been standing and watching them for a few minutes, but Feyre had also taken off Lucien’s shirt. She ignored Rhys and kissed down Lucien’s neck again, her hands resting on his stomach.

“She did tell you to make a decision,” Lucien stated, his breathing slightly uneven. He felt Feyre smile against his collarbone. “And then she got bored once you’d left.” She nodded, her soft hair brushing against Lucien’s chest.

“Lucky you.” Rhys’ voice was lined with bitterness. Feyre hummed and climbed out of Lucien’s lap, who frowned up at her.

“I sense tension,” Feyre observed, looking between her boyfriends. “Fix it while I make food, though I can’t promise it’ll be good.” She strolled into the kitchen to “make food”. When she peeked into the living room a few minutes later, Lucien’s hand was down Rhys’ pants. Tension resolved.  
\-----------------

Hours later, the trio were curled up on the living room couch watching Star Wars. Feyre sat against Rhys’ chest, her legs draped over Lucien’s lap as he massaged her feet. Rhys’ arms were protectively around Feyre’s waist, his thumb brushing lazy circles over her stomach. 

There were multiple quarts of ice cream on the table, along with two empty pizza boxes. Neither Cassian or Azriel had come home yet. The latter was expected. His job was still a mystery to all but Feyre. Cassian had probably just gotten caught up in some shoot.

“I need to tell you something.” Lucien looked over at Feyre as she said the words, and Rhys rested his chin on her shoulder. “But you have to promise not to do anything about it.” Feyre looked down at her hands, which she had clasped together. They both promised and she nodded. 

“You remember the first time I came over?” Lucien nodded slowly, his eyes glancing to Rhys for a moment before looking back at Feyre. Her brows furrowed and she looked down at her hands again. “Well when I got home-” Feyre cringed slightly at the word, but continued. “Tamlin was drunk.” Lucien’s hands paused on her feet, though Rhys’ hand kept stroking her abdomen calmingly. 

“I’d known he was when we’d spoken on the phone, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Feyre-” Rhys started, but she cut him off.

“There’s more. He was stumbling over himself so I helped him sit on the couch and then went to get him a glass of water.” She paused and looked over at the TV, not able to look at either of them. “When I got back, he.. He grabbed my legs and pulled me closer to him.” Rhys’ hand stilled. “He asked me if I loved him. He was running his hands up and down my legs.” Feyre turned back to look at Lucien, whose gaze had gone hard.

“And I told him- I told him that he was crazy if he thought I would sleep with him in the state he was in.” She closed her eyes. “He was confused. He asked the same question again and I told him I didn’t know anymore.” Feyre opened her eyes, though her gaze went to her hands again. She bit her lip. “He didn’t like that.” Rhys’ arms tightened around her as her vision became blurry. “He pulled me into his lap. I dropped the water glass and it shattered on the floor.” Feyre wrapped her arms around herself, a tear falling down her face. 

“I tried-” Her voice broke. “I tried to push him off as he started kissing me, but he was too strong, even drunk. I told him to stop as he did, but he wasn’t listening to me.” She shook her head as if trying to erase the memory. “And then.. Then I slapped him, and he was so shocked that I managed to get free of his grasp.” Feyre loosed a shuddering breath. “I left the apartment and called Nesta.” She huffed a small laugh. “Who was, apparently, on a date with Cassian. I stayed in her hotel room that night.” Rhys nuzzled his face into her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” he mumbled, his blue-black hair tickling her neck. 

“But I still-”

“No,” Lucien said firmly. “It is not, and never will be your fault.” He leaned over and looked at her questioningly. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips when she nodded. A reassuring kiss.

When he pulled away, she wrapped her arms around him and nestled her face into his chest. He turned on his side so he could comfortably lay next to her, his head resting on Rhys’ shoulder. She smiled at him and turned back to the movie. 

\-------------  
The next morning, Rhys’ phone rang as they were eating breakfast. It was Helion.

"Rhys, we’ve got an issue."

“What is it?” Rhys asked, standing up and leaving the dining room where his confused looking girlfriend and boyfriend still sat.

"It’s the papers. Tamlin went and told the press that he fired you for attacking him and his girlfriend." Rhys slid a hand in his pocket and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Feyre isn’t his girlfriend, not anymore. And I quit, he didn’t fire me. And finally, he punched me. I have the black eye to prove it.”

"There’s not much I can do, kiddo."

Rhys huffed as Helion paused for a beat before talking again.

"There’s another thing." Helion sighed. "They’re saying that you forced yourself onto Feyre. And while I know that’s not true, with what’s been happening lately throughout Hollywood… The public is quick to believe it."

Rhys swore.

"They’re saying that you and Lucien broke up because of it. It’s one of the things making you look so guilty. They don’t seem to realise that you and Lucien are still together." Rhys felt his chest tightening.

“Rhys, what is it?” Lucien called.

"You need to leave. At least until this all blows over. You being in this damn city will only put you at more risk. I’m sorry. Luckily, the press doesn’t know that you live in Burbank. I’ll send a car for you if you’d like."

“No, no, I’ll drive myself.”

"Alright then, good--"

“Wait, Helion. Do you think this will ever really blow over? Do you think I’ll ever be able to continue my life here? My career?”

"Well, I--"

“Helion just tell me the truth.” Rhys ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath.

“Rhys?” It was Feyre, her voice was lined with worry. He heard her stand from her chair. Lucien whispered something to her that Rhys couldn’t make out.

"I don’t think so, kid." He paused. "I’m sorry."

Rhysand had hung up the phone before Helion had finished the sentence. Feyre was standing in front of him, her head cocked to the side.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice died in her throat as a single tear fell from Rhys’ violet eye. She stepped towards him, and he took a step back. “ _Rhys_.” He shook his head and backed up a few more steps.

Feyre’s eyes stung when Lucien’s arms encircled her waist. Lucien kissed her neck before looking up at Rhys. His face fell. 

“What happened?” He asked, looking between Feyre and Rhys. The former shook her head.

“Ask him, he won’t tell me.” Feyre struggled to blink back her tears. Both her and Lucien followed Rhys as he turned and walked toward the staircase. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked up the steps.

“Rhys, what’s going on?” Lucien questioned. Rhysand opened the hallway closet and pulled out a suitcase. Tears started to fall down Feyre’s cheeks.

“Where--where are you going?” Feyre’s voice broke as she choked on a sob. Rhys walked down the hall to his room. Lucien followed after him, though Feyre was frozen in place. He walked in the room to find Rhys shoving clothes into his suitcase.

“You can’t leave. I don’t care what happened. You just...can’t.” Rhys paused his packing to look up at him, tears streaming down his cheeks. Rhys never cried. Lucien approached him, pausing less than a foot away. “Let me help you.” His throat was closing up as he reached up to cup Rhys’ cheek.

“You can’t. I am not bringing you, or Feyre, down with me.” Lucien’s brows knitted together.

“I don’t understand.” 

“You will.” Rhys moved away to return to his wardrobe, grabbing more clothing. Lucien watched him as he took picture frames and books and gently placed them atop his clothes. He zipped it closed and turned back to Lucien, slipping off his family ring. He looked down at it and began to speak. 

“Lucien Vanserra, I love you. I love you more and more everyday. I love you so much it hurts.” He shook his head “But I have to go.” He looked back up at his boyfriend and took Lucien’s hand, placing the ring in his palm. “Find me once you and Feyre have lived your lives.”

“Rhysand Spera you cannot just leave us here.” Lucien’s eyes stung as Rhys kissed him softly before he grabbed his suitcase and began walking out of the room. Lucien stormed after him. “What about what you told me after--”

Rhysand had stopped at the sight of Feyre, beautiful, loving Feyre, still standing by the closet, staring at him, her face streaked with tears. Her bottom lip quivered slightly. He’d caused that. Rhys’ heart ached.

“Feyre darling, I-” He stepped towards her and while she didn’t step away, she held up a hand.

“Don’t. Do _not_ apologise. You _promised_ ,” Feyre spat. Rhysand’s aching heart broke.

_I won’t leave you. Not ever._

_I_ promise.

_Promise._

The words echoed in Rhysand’s head as Feyre continued speaking.

“You said he hurt me, but now you’re doing just that. Except you aren’t only hurting me. You’re hurting Lucien as well. I don’t care about my stupid dream if you aren’t there with me when I’m living it.” Her voice was hoarse. Her hand fell to her side. “You’re one of the lucky ones, Rhys. And now you’re just going to throw it all away.” Her voice trailed off as she said the last sentence.

“I am _not_ one of the lucky ones, Feyre, you’ll soon see that. But know that I am very glad I met you.” He paused and walked until he stood right in front of her. “And if one day, when you get your dream, you find that this life isn’t what you wanted, I’ll be waiting for you. That is, if you find it in your heart to forgive me.” She let him kiss her forehead and wipe away her tears with his thumbs. “I wish that we had more time.” 

That was when he stepped away and walked downstairs. Lucien came up behind Feyre, and she fell into his chest, crying and banging her fists against him. All the while, he held her as he watched Rhysand leave.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's me telling y'all that there is going to be a mini-fic that covers the four years in between the previous chapter and this one. stay tuned. p.s. it's only a mini-fic because it's only 4 chapters, not because there's not much content, trust me p.p.s. i do already have a one-shot of nessian's wedding to be posted on here soon

_They say you bought a bunch of land somewhere_

For weeks after Rhysand left, Feyre and Lucien couldn’t go anywhere without being pestered by the paparazzi. They were hounded with questions of what had really happened and where Rhysand had gone. Neither Lucien nor Feyre answered any of them.

Feyre found out the day of Rhys’ departure that Azriel had been taking Cassian to the airport the morning Tamlin had locked her up. Cassian had gone to New York, to Nesta, and hadn’t returned since. 

Lucien got a call from Rhys a week later telling him that he’d bought a vineyard up north of San Francisco, but that was the last either Feyre or Lucien had heard from him. Lucien had written down the address and stored the sheet of paper in a closet drawer for safekeeping.

Azriel had gone to the police that same week with the evidence he’d gathered on Tamlin’s drug network, and what little information he had on Tamlin’s abuse and assault. They’d gone down to Prythian Studios that same day and arrested him. Az convinced Feyre to testify against him in court, and Tamlin was convicted on drug, domestic abuse, and assault charges. 

10 years didn’t seem like long enough to Feyre, but she’d gone home that day feeling slightly lighter than she had that morning.

The Throne of Glass franchise fell apart after that, causing Lucien and the rest of Prythian to lose mass amounts of money. Lucien’s stress was high, and Feyre’s efforts to help were futile. He never once snapped at her though. Never laid a hand on her.

Feyre’s silent tears came only at night. Lucien would only tug her closer. He spent many nights without sleep, holding her, just to ensure she wouldn’t disappear on him. Yet, he never explained this to Feyre.

Months later, they’d fallen into a routine. A good one. A healthy one. Feyre went on auditions at least once a week, and she rarely cried anymore. Lucien supported her wholeheartedly. The absence of Rhysand had stopped weighing so heavily on the both of them. 

Albeit, each day they alternated who wore Rhys’ family ring around their neck. Lucien had put it on a chain after everything had died down enough that him and Feyre weren’t hounded by reporters each day.

They’d found a way to be happy, which is what Rhys wanted.  
\--------  
 _And they still tell the legend of how you disappeared_

It had been years. Years since Rhysand left. Years since Tamlin had been convicted. Years since Cassian was drawn across the country by Feyre’s sister.

Mor, who’d cursed her cousin’s name when he’d left, had found a woman named Andromache. They’d had a steady relationship for a little over a year now. Feyre was sure that they’d get married someday from the way Mor talked about her. 

Nesta and Cassian _had_ gotten married, two years ago. Feyre and Lucien, along with Mor and Azriel, had gone, both had small pieces of their hearts that hoped Rhys would be there, but he hadn’t showed.

They weren’t the only ones who’d been disappointed. Cassian looked as if he’d been shot when his brother hadn’t been at the ceremony.

Feyre had met Rhys’ parents and his little sister; who looked eerily similar to him, so much so that Feyre had to excuse herself after only a few minutes of conversation. That night Feyre cried over Rhys for the first time in years.

Now, Feyre was 26. And somehow, by some trick of fate, she’d made it. 

Not too long after Cassian and Nesta’s wedding, Feyre went on an audition for a movie that Helion had called “the next Star Wars”. She got the job. 

Filming wasn’t easy, but Feyre was so grateful that she had this opportunity that she overlooked it. Her and Lucien were the happiest they’d ever been.

The interviews started after filming was over and the trailers had been released. When she was with other cast members, the questions were always about the movie. What it was like being on set, how they worked with each other, what their initial reactions to the script were. That sort of thing.

Though once she had interviews alone, all they asked about was Rhys.

This sick town had not let go of the events of years ago. 

She lied through her teeth about how she was glad he was gone. How he meant nothing to her, and she nothing to him. Though she wasn’t lying when she told them that they’d had no contact. 

She kept that pretty smile of hers plastered on her face the whole time. Her eyes would drift more than once to Lucien who sat in the audience or stood behind the camera, watching her warily. She never broke her mask. Though her head would fall into her hands and her body would shake once her and Lucien had reached the car. 

Today was the red carpet premiere of her movie. She sat at the vanity in her room, Lucien in the shower. They hadn’t entered the room across the hall since Lucien had moved his things to Feyre’s room. It still held too much of _him_ for either of them to bear.

Mor had gone in there some time after Nesta and Cassian’s wedding. From the clanging and muffled screaming that had occured, Mor had not taken Rhys’ absence from the wedding lightly. Her face had been red and splotchy when she’d come downstairs. 

She didn’t return to the townhouse for at least a week after that.

“What time is it, love?” Lucien asked, walking out of the bathroom, a towel hanging around his waist. He watched her in the mirror as she put in her earrings and glanced down to check her phone.

“It’s a quarter past 6, and we need to be there at 7,” Feyre replied, meeting his eyes in the mirror. She gave him a small smile and returned to getting ready. Lucien pulled on a pair of boxers behind her.

Feyre’s hair fell in loose waves as she let it down from the bun it had been in while she’d done her makeup. She pinned half of it up at the back of her head. When she was done, she looked down at Rhysand’s ring on the table. 

“You should wear it,” Lucien offered, walking up behind her, the only thing missing to his suit was the blazer that was laying on the bed. “It’s your day after all.”

Tears pricked in her eyes as he reached over her shoulder to pick up the chain. He undid the clasp and lowered it in front of her face before bringing the ends around to clasp them at the back of her neck. He pulled her hair out from under the chain and looked up at Feyre’s face in the mirror, his hands resting on her shoulders. 

“Still gorgeous,” he whispered in her ear. She blushed, but there was longing in both of their eyes. Feyre looked down and touched the ring that rested between her breasts and twisted it on its chain.

“I miss him,” she whispered back, her fingers still toying with the ring. He kissed the top of her head softly.

“So do I.” Lucien murmured, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “But he wants us to be happy.” Only partly a lie. 

Lucien knew that Rhys wanted Feyre to realise how cruel the industry was and for them to come find him. He knew that it was what Rhys had wanted since the moment he left, but he wasn’t selfish enough to make the both of them follow after him. 

They’d be happy with him, so it wasn’t a complete lie. Feyre had forgiven him for leaving years ago. And Lucien knew that those interviews had taken their toll. 

Rhysand’s departure was the still the topic of conversation whenever him and Feyre went to parties with others in the industry. And if not Rhys, then it was Tamlin. The people had been shocked when Feyre had testified against him. 

Tamlin had been let out on parole earlier that day, and Lucien had did everything he could to stop Feyre from finding out, at least not today. So Lucien only stood behind Feyre as she thought.

After a moment, Feyre nodded and stood, turning to kiss him chastely before walking for the door, grabbing her purse and phone as she did. He grabbed his blazer and followed after her, as he always did.   
\---------  
 _‘Cause now my name is up in lights, but I think you got it right_

Feyre had to pull Lucien along to keep him close to her while they walked the carpet. Otherwise he’d stay at least 5 feet away, not wanting to make her share her spotlight. She’d rolled her eyes when he told her that and linked her arm through his. 

Lucien told her multiple times how beautiful she looked as they walked. Almost every time they stopped for pictures, he murmured something of that sort in her ear. And though she blushed, she had to agree.

Her dress was floor length with long sleeves. It was a deep shade of blue, and the whole thing was covered in tiny crystals that shimmered every time she moved. The neckline plunged to just below where Rhys’ ring rested. Her eyeshadow glittered to match her dress. She looked like the night sky.

Feyre stopped along the line of fans to sign photos and other things. She smiled at each person as she did. She held hands and heard stories. It was magical. But then...

“You filthy whore!” someone yelled from the crowd. Feyre’s eyes snapped up from the girl in front of her, searching for the owner of the voice.

“Get out of Hollywood!” another called. Feyre looked back down at the girl and finished signing her phone case. She kept her head down as she continued down the line as people in the crowd threw more insults at her. She turned behind her to see Lucien speaking angrily to a guard. 

Lucien came up behind her and slid an arm around her waist. She looked up at the crowd again as he muttered in her ear: “The guards are handling it, but we should keep walking.” She nodded and lowered her eyes to the ones of the girl in front of her.

“I’ve gotta go, I’m sorry hun,” Feyre apologised to the girl, giving her hand a quick squeeze before letting Lucien steer her away. 

She heard shouting and turned her head to look back, and saw Tamlin and two others being pulled away. Feyre’s face paled as she made eye contact with Tamlin. She quickly averted her eyes, turning her attention back to where she was walking. 

“Lucien, why is he here? _How_ is he here?” Feyre questioned as they stood for another picture. Why today? Why couldn’t he have let her have today?

“They let him out on parole this morning, but I’m sure he just violated it.” Feyre frowned at him for a moment before turning back to the cameras with a smile, trying to make it reach her eyes.

“I don’t want to live in this damn city if he is too,” Feyre said through her teeth, her lips barely moving. He nodded in response as they proceeded into the theater.

\-----------

Lucien cursed himself for not keeping a tab on Tamlin. He’d only just gone on parole this morning, Lucien didn’t know how he’d even managed to get in. Tickets were not easy to get. He doubted any of Tamlin’s old friends in the industry would help him, though you could never really tell nowadays.

He could see the headline now: “Actress Feyre Archeron attacked by Former Boyfriend, Tamlin Johnson at Movie Premiere”. Lucien wouldn’t be surprised if some of the papers attacked her too. Saying what they had been for years, only now people would be listening. 

That the scandal with Rhys had been a lie, which it was, except they always seemed to blame Feyre. They claimed she’d been cheating on Tamlin, painting that bastard as the victim. It made him sick, and he had no idea how Feyre dealt with it. Maybe she only acted like she was dealing with it. The thought made Lucien’s stomach churn slightly.

As he and Feyre chatted with others at the after party, Lucien noticed Feyre toying with the ring again. She did it when she missed him, or when she was anxious. Lucien guessed it was both. She’d been unusually quiet since she’d seen Tamlin. But Lucien couldn’t blame her.

“I’m just going to get something to drink,” Feyre said. She stumbled a bit as she stood from the sofa, but Lucien was there to steady her before she fell. He guided her away from the group of people.

“Feyre, how much have you had to drink?” he asked her, quiet enough not to be overheard by the others around them, though he already knew the answer. She’d had more to drink than she typically did at these kinds of parties. Feyre rolled her eyes.

“I’m not drunk, Luce.” A server walked by and she plucked a champagne glass from his tray. She raised it to her mouth to take a sip, but Lucien took it from her hand before any reached her tongue. She frowned at him, her brows knitting together a bit.

“I am not going to have you embarrass yourself,” Lucien insisted. He lowered his voice. “I know you don’t want to be here, love. We can just go home.” He reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across it. She stared at him for a moment, as if still trying to process his words.

“Alright,” Feyre conceded, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached for the hand on her face and interlaced his fingers with hers. Lucien sighed in relief as they walked away.  
\---------  
 _And it took some time, but I understand it now._

“Lucien?” Feyre muttered as they lay in bed that night. Feyre was on her back, staring at the ceiling. He hummed in response, rolling over onto his stomach and sliding his arm over her abdomen. “I’m thinking that maybe Rhys was right to leave.” Lucien sat up, his eyes now wide open and his shoulders tense. 

“Leave Hollywood, I mean.” He relaxed a bit. “He was right about me as well.” Lucien cocked a brow. “This isn’t what I wanted.” Her voice was nearly inaudible. 

“I didn’t want to be followed around. I didn’t want to listen to everything everyone told me to do.” Her voice began to crack as she shook her head. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. “I didn’t want to lie just to keep the public happy, just so I could live in peace.” She moved her gaze down from the ceiling to Lucien’s eyes.

“I don’t want any of those things.” Tears fell down her cheeks and onto her pillow. Lucien pushed her hair back from her forehead and kissed her softly.

“Rhysand is the lucky one.” She continued when he pulled away, her fingers playing with his hair. “Though not for the reasons I once thought he was. Not because his name was in lights, but because he left it all behind.” She paused, her brows furrowing. “He’s free. But I’m still trapped. _We’re_ still trapped.”

Feyre suddenly sat up and looked Lucien in the eye. “I want to leave.” She crawled out of bed and headed towards the hall.

“Now?” Lucien sputtered as he scrambled after her.

“Yes, now.”


	14. Chapter 14

_Let me tell you now, you’re the lucky one._

Lucien Vanserra did not intend on driving down the I-5 at 3am. His girlfriend of 4 years had finally decided to leave the limelight of Hollywood. In the middle of the night, he might add. 

They’d been lying in bed, Lucien almost asleep when Feyre had spoken. He was glad for it though. Feyre vented out everything that he knew she’d been wanting to say for at least the past few months. When she’d told him she wanted to leave, he’d been more than happy to oblige, though leaving at midnight was not what he had in mind. 

He didn’t stop her as she began packing their things though. She had walked to her vanity, taken one look at all of the jewelry and stated that she “hates all of it”. Then proceeded to place Rhys’ ring around her neck again and began to pack her clothes.

“I know you have his address somewhere,” Feyre mentioned, glancing back at Lucien from where she stood at the bookshelf, trying to make decisions on what to bring. 

“It’s in the closet across the hall,” Lucien replied warily. She flicked a hand in his direction and pulled a few books off the shelf. Lucien glanced between Feyre and the door and back again. Blowing out a long breath, he walked to the door that hadn’t been opened since Mor had broken down in anger after Nesta and Cassian’s wedding. 

When Lucien opened the door, he swore under his breath. Rhys’ once-immaculate room had been, to put it nicely, trashed. The black bedclothes were haphazardly thrown on the bed, as if they’d been torn off and Mor hadn’t bothered to put them back correctly. 

The pillows were scattered around the room. There were a few books discarded on the floor by the bookshelf. His remaining clothes were in a circle on the closet, like Mor had sat on the floor with them around her. Her face that day flashed in his mind. Pure anguish and betrayal.

Lucien stepped carefully over the clothes to reach the drawer in which he’d put that scrap of paper in years ago. He hadn’t wanted to face it. So he’d placed in the room that neither him or Feyre would enter. He pulled out the piece of paper that had Rhys’ new address scribbled on it. 

Well, he guessed it wasn’t new. Rhys had been living there for 4 years now. Four years he’d been gone. Lucien shoved the piece of paper in his back pocket and returned to Feyre. She’d already finished packing her things into a suitcase.

“You ready?” Feyre asked him, pulling her suitcase onto the floor beside the bed. She glanced around the room as if checking for anything she’d missed.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” He walked over and pulled his own suitcase off the bed, and took hers from her hand. 

“Yes. Positive,” she affirmed and pulled his head down to kiss him. He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Let’s go then,” Lucien murmured, and she smiled ear to ear.

\---------------------

Feyre was asleep in the passenger seat. Her head was against the window, her feet curled up in her seat. One hand gripped the ring loosely, the other was interlaced with Lucien’s as he drove. Always both of them. 

They were still at least 3 hours away, without stopping or traffic. Lucien would need to rest for a bit though, and he was sure that Feyre would be hungry when she woke up. It was 4am now. They could stop in an hour for an early breakfast. 

Lucien glanced over at Feyre when she shifted slightly. The moon cast her face in a grayish light, making her look ethereal. The UCLA sweatshirt she wore was at least a size too big, how she liked it. 

She’d gotten it when the two of them had visited the school. Lucien had told her that he’d gone to school there and she insisted on going. They’d spent the day touring the campus, just strolling around arm-in-arm.

He smiled at the memory and gave her hand a small squeeze, turning back to the road ahead. His eyes flicked down to the directions on his phone a few times, though he knew it would only tell him to stay on the I-5 for x amount of miles.

An hour later, Lucien pulled into a rest stop, and Feyre jolted awake at the loss of movement. She looked out the window and sat back in her seat rubbing her eyes.

“What time is it?” Feyre yawned as she stretched out her legs in front of her.

“5:13am,” Lucien replied, switching off the car and opening his door. Feyre groaned, but reached for the door handle. She paused as she stepped out of the car, resting her forehead on the roof.

“And where are we?” 

“On our way to Rhys’ vine--” Lucien was interrupted by Feyre’s shoe being thrown at his face.

“I know that, you idiot. I meant location.” She closed her car door and walked over to him, her arms crossed over her chest.

“At a rest stop somewhere between Burbank and Napa Valley.” Feyre rolled her eyes and picked her shoe up off the ground.

“Way to be specific.” He chuckled as she began trudging towards the building.

\------

Fifteen minutes later, Feyre and Lucien sat alone in the food court. Feyre sipped her Oreo McFlurry that Lucien let her get, if only so she’d wake up. She paused and looked out the window at the rising sun, her fingers again fiddling with the ring around her neck. 

“Hey, cheer up, love,” Lucien began. Feyre turned to look at him. “We’re going to see Rhys today.” He took the hand that was laying on the table and kissed the top of it. “And you can hug him.” He started to place kisses along her wrist. “And kiss him.” Feyre smiled. Lucien glanced up at her, mischief dancing in his eyes. “And do… other things.” Lucien’s voice had dropped almost to a whisper. 

He looked up into her blue eyes and smirked. She blushed slightly and turned her head out the window again. Lucien leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear. “Rhys has been dying to get in your pants since the day he met you.” Feyre ducked her head as her face turned beet red. 

Lucien lifted up her chin and placed a kiss to her mouth. Feyre smiled and hummed, pulling away slightly. She bit her lip and glanced down at the table.

“I guess he must be mighty jealous of you then,” Feyre murmured. Her boyfriend leaned back and laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. Feyre had to cover her mouth to keep from joining him. The janitor that was sweeping a few meters away shot them a glare. Feyre mouthed _sorry_ and smacked Lucien playfully on the arm.

“Let’s go, I think we’ve scandalized these poor people too much already,” Lucien smiled, grabbing Feyre’s hand in one hand and the rest of their food in the other. Feyre picked up her McFlurry, and the two exited the building.

\-------------

Feyre propped her feet up on the dash when she got in the car, taking a sip from her shake before putting it in the cupholder to her left. The sun rising to her right and shining in her face. She looked up at the fading stars. They’d always been her favorite. 

She couldn’t help but worry about today. She was excited, yes, but also nervous. What if Rhys had changed his mind? What if he didn’t like who she’d become? And what if _he’d_ changed? What would she do then?

“You okay?” Lucien asked, glancing over at her as he said it. She didn’t know what she did to deserve him.

“Yeah, yeah, just tired,” Feyre gave him a small smile. He brought her hand to his lips and brushed them across her knuckles.

“I love you, Feyre Archeron.” 

“I love you, too.” Feyre sighed and leaned her head back against the rest, her gaze on the horizon.  
\--------  
_They say you bought a bunch of land somewhere_

They pulled into the vineyard two and a half hours later. They’d hit some traffic outside of San Fran, though Feyre wished there’d been more. It was only 8am. So, maybe leaving at one in the morning hadn’t been the greatest idea logically, but Feyre wouldn’t have been able to stand waking up one more day in that city. 

She would call Mor a little while later, to ensure she didn’t lose her fucking mind. Also to avoid the slap Mor would surely tell her to give Rhys. As much as her blonde friend loved her cousin, she was still pissed at him. If not for leaving, then for missing his own damn brother’s wedding. Feyre might actually slap him for that.

But the vineyard… It was huge. And gorgeous. Rows and rows of grapes that stretched on for miles. It was surrounded by mountains, which the sun barely peeked over so early in the morning. It was like paradise.

Lucien parked the car in front of the farmhouse that was almost double the size of the townhouse in Burbank. It was huge for only one person, though it had likely come with the estate. It was just as beautiful as the rest of the vineyard.

Feyre stepped out of the car and closed the door. The noise was louder than she’d expected in the quiet of the estate. She breathed in deeply, smelling the fresh air. She turned in circles a few times, trying to take it all in. 

“It’s beautiful,” Lucien said, closing his car door. Feyre nodded in agreement. Her eyes stopped on the front door. Without looking back at him, Feyre began walking up to that door. He followed quickly after her.

She paused at the door, trying to catch of the glimpse of the inside through the clouded glass windows. She could barely make out the foyer.

“Knock,” Lucien said beside her. She batted his arm.

“I know.” She raised her fist, taking a calming breath before knocking her fingers against the door twice. They stood in silence for a few moments before an older woman came to the door. She paused when she opened it.

“We’re not open on Sundays,” the woman said, her tone slightly annoyed, beginning to close the door but Lucien’s hand was on the door before she could.

“Where’s Rhys?” he asked, and the woman’s eyebrows rose, but then her face softened as she looked between them and took in the ring that still hung around Feyre’s neck.

“He’s doing his usual Sunday morning patrol of the grounds,” she replied, opening the door a little wider. “You can wait for him here, or go and find him, though he’s likely circling around back to the house now for breakfast before he continues.” Lucien turned to Feyre with a questioning look on his face.

“Can we come in?” Feyre queried softly, her voice showing a hint of worry.

“Yes, yes, of course,” the woman answered, beckoning them with a hand as she opened the door wide for them. “Breakfast is on the kitchen table. It’d be in the dining room, but Mr. Spera hasn’t had anyone over for breakfast in.. well, I don’t think there’s ever been anyone over for breakfast.” Feyre and Lucien nodded as they took in the house. Everything in it screamed Rhysand. 

The worn furniture, the antique rugs. The way light streamed in from multiple windows. The fact that the dark color scheme swallowed up that light in some places. The high ceilings that made voices echo just a bit.

“My name’s Clotho by the way.” She turned back to look at them, but they’d paused at an end table in the living room. There was a picture frame atop it. It held a picture of Lucien and Rhys kissing on the beach. 

“He talks about you sometimes, both of you. Though not intentionally.” The woman--Clotho paused for a moment, her brows knitting together slightly. “Pain flashes in his eyes, and he goes quiet, sometimes for days.” Feyre frowned and continued walking to the kitchen.

“What happened hurt him as much as it hurt you, honey,” Clotho said as she walked next to Feyre. Feyre nodded and fiddled with the ring. They sat at the table, and Feyre looked back at Lucien, who had picked up the picture frame and was staring at it. Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line.

“All these years, he never talked about it. She turned back to Clotho, her brows furrowed. Clotho was quiet, listening. “Though I’m sure it had to have hurt him more than me.” 

Feyre turned to look out the window and her brows rose. “He has a stable?” It was nearly the size of the house and was seemingly the only other building for miles.

“He only has three horses,” Clotho acknowledged quietly. “Said he only needed the three and sold the rest that came with it.” Feyre looked at her in disbelief. How did he even-- “The owner of the vineyard had just recently died and had no next of kin, so it was up for auction.” Feyre shook her head though she was smiling. She poured herself a cup of tea as Clotho continued speaking.  
\------------  
Lucien stared at the photograph in his hands. It’d been taken on the 4th of July, over a year before Feyre arrived in Hollywood. So long ago that it felt like he’d lived a whole lifetime since then.

All of their friends had gone down to Dockweiler beach for a bonfire. They’d only been dating a few months, but Mor was already convinced that they would get married someday. She’d told Lucien that she had never seen her cousin as happy as he was dating him. Lucien had laughed it off.

Mor was the one who’d taken the picture. Him and Rhys had sneaked off a little for some privacy, but Mor had secretly taken it from where she’d stood near the bonfire. The only light was a combination of the moon, the exploding fireworks, and the orangey glow of the fire. 

Lucien’s arms were thrown around Rhys’ neck. Rhys’ hands were tangled in Lucien’s hair. His hands had actually cupped Lucien’s face at first and pulled him in for a kiss despite Lucien’s protests. He wasn’t as comfortable with the PDA as Rhysand was. 

Rhys didn’t give two shits about what others thought of them. If only it had stayed that way.

Lucien hadn’t noticed that he was crying until a tear fell onto the glass. He quickly wiped his eyes, but the back door opened before he put down the picture frame. Lucien’s head snapped up and there he was.

“Clotho, what’s for breakfast?” Rhys called, pulling off his riding gloves. “I’m starving.” His voice trailed off as he noticed Lucien standing in the living room. 

“Lucien,” he breathed and strode swiftly over to him. Before Lucien could say anything in response, his hands were on Lucien’s face, and his lips were crashing into Lucien’s. His arms wrapped around Rhys’ neck, pulling him closer. Rhys pulled away, too quickly, to look at him.

“Rhys, I-” His lips were again on Lucien’s before he could finish. He groaned as Rhys’ tongue swept into his mouth, but he pushed him away, breathing heavily. “Feyre’s here.” Lucien looked over Rhys’ shoulder and Lucien saw his violet eyes widen. Rhys glanced over his shoulder to see her watching them and turned back to Lucien, his face filled with worry.

“Is she still mad at me?” Rhys murmured. Lucien chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, thank the Mother.” Rhys rested his forehead against Lucien’s in relief. “I missed you both so much.” 

A pair of arms wrapped around Rhys’ abdomen, a head resting in between his shoulder blades. Rhys felt Feyre breath in deeply before he turned around in her arms. Lucien smiled and set down the picture frame before walking to the kitchen.

“Hello, Feyre darling.” He smiled down at her, his violet eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Hello, Rhysand,” Feyre mumbled against his chest. Rhys pulled back and gasped in mock offense.

“I don’t see you for 4 years and you start calling me Rhysand?” Feyre glared up at him.

“You smell different,” she said, looking up into his eyes. Rhys laughed. Cauldron, it’d been forever since she heard that laugh. She’d missed it.

“Do I now? Better or worse?” Feyre shrugged at that.

“Neither, just different.” He nodded and hummed as he looked her up and down. His eyes snagged on the ring hanging from her neck. Rhys’ fingers latched onto it, and he ran one over the detailing.

“I think this is mine, darling. Though I remember giving it to Lucien, not--” Feyre grasped his face in her hands and pulled his lips to hers. Her fingers quickly found their way into his short, blue-black hair when he kissed her back, but he pulled away swiftly. “Someone’s eager.” Rhys smirked as she told him to shut up and pressed her lips to his once more. When he pulled away again, she let him speak.

“Feyre, darling, as much as I’d love to continue,” The lust in his eyes made her blush. “I just went on a ride around the grounds and I need food. But after that I’m all yours--and Lucien’s, because you aren’t the only deprived one here.” She smacked him playfully on the arm, and he grinned at her as they walked to the kitchen to eat.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW for SURE

Breakfast did not last very long. Clotho had excused herself on some errands for the next few hours once Feyre and Rhysand had sat down at the table. Rhys barely got to eat anything seeing as Feyre was practically in his lap after ten minutes. 

It wasn’t entirely her fault though. Rhys had set his hand unnecessarily high on her thigh and proceeded to casually talk about all the things he wanted to do to her. Lucien merely sat next to Rhys and tried to ignore his growing erection.

“Hmmm, we could even do it on this very table, though all the dishes would make it fairly uncomfortable,” Rhys suggested, his head propped up on his hand as he smiled lazily at Feyre.

She was desperately trying to focus on eating her food, but his thumb was brushing lightly against her inner thigh, and she could feel his piercing gaze on the side of her face.

“Or against the wall,” Rhys tilted his head, as if imagining it. “Yes, the wall would be nice.” 

“Jesus, Rhys, you’re such a damn tease,” Lucien said, shifting in his seat. Rhys turned his attention on him in an instant.

“Seems little Lucien is getting a bit antsy,” Rhys purred, cocking his head to the side.

“Hmm, yes, you may be right.” Lucien pointed his fork at Rhys. “But I promised Feyre she’d be first.” They both smiled at Feyre as she squirmed, though Lucien was regretting that promise right about now.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep that promise for you.” Rhys smirked. Feyre’s fork paused halfway to her mouth, her eyes trained on the plate in front of her. He nudged her knee with his so she was angled towards him. 

Rhys moved so that he was on his knees in front of her, his body between her knees. He tilted his head up so he could kiss her gently. She gripped his face and pulled him closer as he slid his hands up and around her hips to rest on her behind.

Rhys stood, picking up Feyre as he did so, his hands moving to grasp her thighs. Feyre’s hands slid up his shirt as she began to place sucking kisses down his jaw and neck. Rhys began walking them to the living room as she started unbuttoning his shirt. He squeezed her thighs, his head falling against her shoulder as she ran her mouth over his nipple.

Lucien’s chair scuffed against the floor as he pushed it out. Neither Feyre nor Rhys noticed Lucien strolling casually to the couch as Rhys pushed Feyre up against the wall, her heels digging into his lower back. He properly removed his shirt and began brushing his hands up Feyre’s sides, her mouth still exploring his chest.

Feyre lifted her arms, removing her hands from Rhys’ hair so he could tug off her hoodie. He paused for a moment as it fell to the floor to look at her, his hands resting on her hips. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, which did not last long as her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer, grinding herself against his cock slightly.

Rhys’ hands began to run up and down her sides as he placed kisses down her neck. Just as his mouth was about to reach her breast, his lips returned to hers, his hands sliding behind her to unclasp her bra. Her head fell back against the wall as his mouth closed around her peaked nipple. She felt him smile at her moan, and she tugged on his hair in response. 

He teased the waistband of her leggings with his thumb, and she tried pushing his hand down further. His thumb paused its teasing. Rhys detached his mouth from her breast to look at her, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Eager little lady.” Rhys smirked up at her and she dug her heels into his lower back. His fingers continued teasing her.

“Rhys, I swear, if you don’t-” Feyre gasped as Rhys’ index finger slid into her, her eyes falling closed. His finger moved slowly, too damn slowly if Feyre had anything to say about it, as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“You’re so wet, it’s a wonder we even made it that far into breakfast.” Feyre only moaned as he added another finger. His other hand palmed her breast, and her hands roamed his chest. Feyre grinded against his hand as her hands found his belt. 

Rhys sighed into Feyre’s ear as she undid his trousers and his length sprang free. She pushed them down as far as she could before her hand slithered into his boxers and wrapped around him. His fingers moved faster in her as his head dropped to her shoulder again. Her mouth fell open as she clenched around his still moving fingers. His name tumbled off her lips as she came. 

Feyre watched with sex-addled as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them. He hummed with satisfaction as he kissed her swollen mouth, her flushed cheeks. His hands returned to her thighs, running up and down them.

“Take them off,” Feyre mumbled against his lips. Rhys pulled away and cocked his head.

“Take what off?”

“Your pants, my pants, all pants.” She gestured vaguely between them.

“I’m gonna have to set you down for a second, darling.” Feyre flicked her hand and he set her down on the ground before stepping out of his trousers and kicking them away. His hands rested on her hips for a moment before he pulled down her leggings, teasingly slowly. 

Feyre met the eyes of Lucien, who sat on the couch watching them. He winked at her before roving his eyes along her body, and Rhysand’s.

He then fingered the scrap of lace that barely concealed anything after she pushed down his boxers. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him. He pushed her panties down and his hands cupped her ass before he lifted her and pressed her to the wall once more.

Feyre smashed her lips into his and tugged him closer. She felt him pressing against her and she tried to push herself onto him. He shifted slightly and pulled away, resting his forehead on hers and looking into her eyes. 

“You’re sure?”

“Just fuck me, Rhysand,” she breathed, grinding her hips in emphasis. He smirked in response, lining his cock up against her entrance. Feyre dug her nails into his shoulders. 

Rhys kissed her jaw as he nudged her slightly, before thrusting into her and releasing a shuddering breath in her ear. Rhys’ head fell to her shoulder as he began to move, pulling out slowly and pushing back in faster. 

Feyre felt his breath hot on her bare skin. She tugged on his hair, a silent command to move faster. He obliged her and the room was soon filled with their heavy breathing and Feyre’s soft whines. 

Her fingers ran through his hair as he sucked on her neck, murmuring her name. His hands were roaming all along her torso, each thrust into her more filling than the last. Feyre’s breathing was uneven.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Rhys’ mouth returned to hers, swallowing up her whine as he thrust into her again. Her heels dug into his behind, trying to pull him closer. Her head thudded against the wall as Rhys leaned down and ran his teeth over her nipple.

“She loves it when you nip at her ear,” Lucien purred in Rhys’ ear, running his hands up Rhysand’s muscular back. Lucien shifted and brushed a piece of hair out of Feyre’s face before pressing his lips to her ear and running his hand softly down her arm. “Don’t you, love.” She whined, her eyes fluttering closed as her climax neared.

Indeed, Rhys bit at her ear as he thrusted into her and she dug her nails into his shoulders again as she found her release, Rhys’ name falling from her open mouth. He followed after her, groaning her name in her ear. He pumped into her a few more times before pulling out slowly. 

Feyre rested her forehead on Rhysand’s shoulder, and he ran his fingers through her hair softly, using his body to hold her up. She mumbled, her words almost indistinguishable: “Lucien does that too.”

“Does what?” Feyre snickered at the hint of jealousy in his tone as he turned his head to look at Lucien.

“Strokes my hair after sex,” Feyre replied lifting her head to look at Rhys, a small smile gracing her face. The flush on her cheeks made her freckles stand out more. Cauldron, she was adorable.

“Hmm, I see.” Though he still stroked her hair, his gaze was now fixed on Lucien, who leaned against the wall a few feet away. Rhys looked back to her for a moment and set her down on her feet, his hands lingering on her hips. 

“I would say go get cleaned up, but I really don’t think we’re done yet.” He cocked his head to the side. “It’s your choice though, darling.” She shrugged, pecked his cheek, and sauntered toward the staircase, her hips swaying slightly as she did. 

\--------

Lucien watched Feyre until she turned at the top of the stairs and was out of sight. When he turned back to Rhys, he found the latter already watching him from a few feet away. Rhysand’s usually assured gaze was soft, edged slightly with regret. 

Lucien pushed off the wall and walked over to Rhys. He reached up and pushed back some of the hair that was stuck to Rhys’ forehead with sweat, making it stick up in odd directions.

“Hello Rhys.” Lucien smiled at him, his eyes holding Rhys’ slightly incredulous stare.

“Hello Lucien.” Rhys’ voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes lined with silver. They stayed like that for a while. Lucien’s hand was on Rhys’ cheek as they just looked at each other. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked as he choked on a sob. A tear slid down his face and Lucien brushed it away with his thumb. “I didn’t want to--”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have--” Rhys fixed his eyes on Lucien’s shoulder, unable to look at his face.

“I know.”

“I should’ve tried--”

“Rhys, stop it.” He did, his eyes squeezed shut. “Look at me.” Rhys’ eyes shone with tears and too many emotions as he opened them and met Lucien’s stare. “You have already been forgiven.” Rhys frowned. “At least for leaving, though Mor and Cassian might never fully forgive you for not showing up to Cassian and Nesta’s wedding.” Rhys opened his mouth to speak, but Lucien cut him off. “Do not think that you did not put Feyre and I through _hell_. That you did not put your _entire_ family through hell.”

He didn’t entirely regret how much bite he’d put into the words. Lucien sighed before he spoke again: “Don’t try to explain what we already know.” 

Rhys murmured an _okay_ in response before Lucien wrapped his arms around his neck and buried his face into Rhys’ bare, tanned chest. Despite Lucien’s words, Rhys whispered apologies as he ran his fingers through Lucien’s hair, tears falling down his face.

“I’m tempted to slap you right now, but I’ll wait until you’re less vulnerable,” Lucien muttered. Rhys chuckled, but fell silent after a moment.

They stood there, holding each other until Lucien began softly kissing his way up Rhys’ chest and neck. When their lips met, the kiss was sweet at first, but then Lucien tugged at Rhys’ bottom lip slightly with his teeth as his nails scraped his sides. He pulled away when Rhys started unbuttoning his shirt.

“You are not taking me against the wall.” Lucien’s voice was a bit breathless. Rhysand only smirked and grabbed Lucien’s collar, pulling him in again as Rhys shifted and began walking backward towards the stairs. Lucien huffed a laugh against Rhys’ mouth as he tripped and almost fell down the stairs.

They somehow reached the top without falling and continued down the hall to the master bedroom. Rhys unbuttoned Lucien’s shirt and discarded it somewhere between the staircase and the room they had now reached. 

Rhys vaguely acknowledged the fact that Feyre was sitting in an armchair in the corner, reading a book and wearing one of his t-shirts.

He lowered Lucien onto the massive bed and kneeled between the latter’s thighs, intending on pleasuring him, but Rhys was flipped on his back almost immediately. He let out a breathy laugh.

“Mmm, I’d forgotten you like to be dom.” Lucien just rolled his eyes and removed his own pants before leaning down to press his lips to Rhys’, bracing his hands on either side of Rhys’ head. Lucien’s hair brushed against Rhys’ face as he kissed along his jaw. 

His breath was hot in Rhys’ ear as he muttered, “You love it,” before he began to press kisses down Rhys’ torso. He dragged his teeth lightly against the flesh as he did so, his own chest sliding against Rhys’. 

Just as he bit at a nipple, he gripped Rhys in one hand. The latter moaned in response and tugged on the red hair in which his hands were tangled. Lucien flicked his eyes up to see Rhys’ eyes screwed shut. 

Lucien began to move his hand up and down, continuing to kiss his way down Rhys’ chest. He stopped moving his hand as his lips hovered over the head of Rhysand’s cock.

“Luciennn,” Rhys groaned, drawing out the name and bucking up his hips slightly, but Lucien lifted his head to look up at Rhys’ face.

“Hmm?” Lucien chuckled darkly at the glare he got in reply. “It’s really a wonder that you called _me_ the deprived one, I mean, look at you.”

“Stop running your damn mouth and put it--” Rhys’ words faltered as Lucien licked up his shaft. Lucien’s lips closed around the head, his tongue swirling around slowly. Rhys’ hips jerked as Lucien took more of him into his mouth. “Fuck.” Rhys groaned out the word as he tugged on his lover’s long red hair. Lucien moaned against him in reply, sending vibrations through Rhys’ body.

Lucien’s finger moved to circle Rhys’ hole as his head bobbed up and down. Rhys’ breathing was uneven, and he struggled to form a coherent sentence: “Lucien, I--Shit.” He felt Lucien smile around him before he plunged a finger into him just as his teeth scraped the underside of Rhys’ cock. Rhys spilled into Lucien’s mouth as he barked out another curse. 

Before Lucien could finish licking him clean, Rhys pulled him up for a messy kiss. Lucien melted against him with a sigh. He pulled away to to see Rhys smile. A real, genuine smile. One he hadn’t seen in years.

“I missed you,” Lucien admitted, though he was sure Rhys already knew, Rhys said as much, earning a snort from Feyre, who had set down her book. They both looked over at her with lazy grins, Lucien turning onto his side and propping up his head with one hand.

“I hope you’re not both too tired,” Feyre said as she stood from her chair. Lucien ran his free hand up and down Rhys’ chest as she spoke. “Because I remember Rhys telling me that we weren’t done yet.” Rhys clicked his tongue.

“Yes, I do remember saying that, darling,” he said, looking up at her where she stood beside the bed. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, the t-shirt she wore riding up her thighs a sliver.

His eyes remained closed as she pulled away, a smile ghosting his lips. Feyre sat on the edge of the bed, moving back a bit so only her calves hung over the side. Lucien sat up and twisted to face her.

“You’re not wearing anything under that, are you, love?” he inquired, scanning her body. Rhys was looking between them idly as Feyre shook her head. Lucien leaned over and pressed his mouth to the shell of her ear. “Good.” A chill went down her spine, and she inched backwards away from him and further onto the bed. 

She sat cross legged in the center of the bed, waiting. Lucien crawled over and pushed Feyre down onto her back. Her legs moved and hooked around the back of Lucien’s thighs. He slid his hands up her shirt, pushing it up so he could kiss her stomach. She writhed under him as he kissed lower, along her navel. 

Lucien felt Rhysand’s hand brush over his back as he moved towards the headboard. Lucien lifted his head to see Rhys pulling Feyre’s shirt over her head, exposing her torso. Rhys kissed her languidly.

Lucien returned his lips to her abdomen, kissing lower and lower until he dipped his head and ran his tongue through her folds. He felt her diaphragm convulse as she gasped into Rhys’ mouth.

One of Feyre’s hands shot into Lucien’s hair as his tongue swirled in slow circles. Her hips bucked and Lucien glanced up to see Rhys with his mouth over Feyre’s breast, her other hand grasping at Rhys’ back. Lucien smiled against her and pushed his tongue into her, savoring the wetness inside.

Feyre’s breathing became uneven and Lucien ran his hands up and down her thighs, continuing his work. She moaned and tugged the long strands in her grasp. Lucien had no doubt that Rhysand was murmuring sweet nothings in her ear and against her skin. 

The strokes of his tongue grew faster and Lucien groaned as his name graced Feyre’s lips. Her release cascaded through her at the vibrations it sent through her body. Lucien smiled as he lapped up her liquid while she rode out her orgasm.

When her body relaxed, Lucien crawled up and kissed her slowly. He slid off of her onto his side and brushed back her hair. Rhys grasped his jaw lightly and kissed him with the same softness. They pulled away and lay back down on either side of Feyre as she yawned. 

“Later,” she mumbled, rolling over onto her stomach. as Rhys and Lucien’s hands interlaced over her back.

“Later,” they echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly...yum like I always think back on this and cringe but it's actually... not bad?


	16. Epilogue

Rhysand sat with the loves of his life on the porch of their house in the middle of the vineyard that they shared. Feyre was sprawled over him and Lucien, one arm draped over her eyes to block out the midday sun, which tugged up her cream colored sweater exposing a strip of her abdomen.

Both Rhys and Lucien were tracing constellations between Feyre’s freckles on her stomach and thighs. There was a faint, contented smile on her face. She was probably thinking that if she hadn’t had her arm covering most of her face, Lucien would be tracing constellations along her cheeks with his tongue.

They spent most Sundays like this. Seeing as every other day was filled with tours and tastings, this was the only time they could just relax. Sometimes they went for horseback rides around the grounds, most of the time there were much different rides occurring throughout the day. When it was still warm they had gone to the small pond a mile or so out from the house and swam. 

Clotho only came round during working hours, seeing as Rhys now had two other people helping him run the winery.Though, they would be closed for the week. Thanksgiving was on Thursday and their family was coming to visit. The trio was trying to savour their last hours alone before Mor and Andromache arrived around 4.

Rhys hoped his cousin would propose soon. He’d met Andi when her and Morrigan had popped by for a visit, claiming to be dropping off some things that Lucien and Feyre had left. Rhysand had seen it for what it really was though: Mor wanting to finally see him and making an excuse to bring Andromache along with her.

He was sure that Mor had dragged her along, but from the way she looked at Morrigan, he didn’t think she had it in her to deny his cousin anything. Rhys smiled at the thought of Morrigan’s happiness. She deserved it much more than he did. 

A hand grasped his jaw and lifted his head, turning it towards russet eyes and flaming red hair. His finger paused on Feyre’s thigh as Lucien kissed him.

Cauldron, Rhys didn’t think he’d ever get enough of that kiss.

“You two are making out, aren’t you?” Feyre grumbled. Rhys knew she rolled her eyes when they pulled away with a quick, simultaneous yes before continuing. “I’m trying to _relax_ , and I can’t very well do that with you two imbeciles smooching right above me.”

“Did you just call us _imbeciles_?”

“Did you just say _smooching_?”

The questions came at the same time. The former from Lucien and the latter from Rhysand, though they both put emphasis on the final word.

Feyre snorted and sat up, spotting a car far down the dirt path. She scooched back into Lucien’s lap and put her arm around his neck, the other reached to hold Rhys’ hand, before resting her head on Lucien’s shoulder to where she could still see the road. 

“Mor didn’t say they’d be here for another 3 hours,” Rhys groaned as he followed Feyre’s gaze, running his free hand idly along Feyre’s leg. He heard her mumble something along the lines of “I should’ve been able to get fucked at least one more time before they got here,” in response. Lucien snickered and buried his nose in her hair.

“Plus, Morrigan is going to end up drinking us out of business.” Rhys pointed out. “And we’ve had no time to even _try_ to hide anything from her.”

“What shoddy business owners we are,” Lucien conceded. Feyre huffed a laugh onto his neck as Rhys leaned over to capture his lips once more. Feyre glanced up and faked a shocked gasp. She disentangled herself from her boyfriends and stood up, her hands on her hips. 

“I’ve been scandalised.” Feyre spoke with a (god-awful) posh, ‘British’ accent, putting one hand to her heart and the other to her forehead. “I cannot associate with imbeciles. I’m very sorry, but I must leave.” Her ‘accent’ dropped on the word _imbeciles_. She began to saunter away, dallying a bit, until large hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her down to the porch couch.

She erupted into a laughing fit in Rhys’ arms as he murmured in her ear, “You’re not going anywhere, darling Feyre.” Her laughter subsided a bit and she went to kiss Rhys, but leaned back, tilting her head before Lucien caught her lips. 

Rhysand began tickling her, making her squirm and release Lucien’s mouth. She broke out in another fit of giggles and he once again pressed his lips to her ear: “You little minx.” Feyre only laughed harder, holding her aching abdomen. Rhys saw Lucien hunched over in amusement, glancing up at them every few seconds.

“Your love is disgustingly cute.” Mor’s voice cut through their chuckles, sufficiently cutting them off. All three heads snapped at the sound and saw Mor and Andromache standing at the edge of the porch.

“Hello to you, too, Mor,” Rhys replied, Feyre still shaking with silent laughter in his arms. Though he still looked at Mor, the corners of his mouth twitched up at the laughter that his boyfriend and girlfriend were struggling to contain. He lifted a finger and pointed at Morrigan. “You weren’t supposed to be here until 4.”

“I guess I overestimated how long it would take,” she shrugged and Andi rolled her eyes. 

“Mor hoped you’d be fucking.” Feyre and Lucien burst out laughing once more, Feyre falling back onto Lucien’s lap. Rhys put his head in his hands, shaking his head.

“You three are insufferable,” Mor said exasperatedly. “I’m hungry. There’s food inside? What am I saying, of course there’s food inside. Come on, Andi, let’s get food.” Rhys heard Mor mutter ‘and booze’ under her breath before the front door opened and closed. Their fit of giggles subsided.

“She hoped we’d be fucking.” Feyre huffed a laugh, her hands reaching to fiddle with Rhys’ fingers as Lucien ran his through her hair. After a minute or two of comfortable silence, Feyre spoke again. “Mmm, I forgot.” She sat up in Rhys’ lap and cupped his face in her hands before kissing him softly. He smiled against her lips.

“We should probably get inside before Morrigan finds the wine,” Lucien mentioned, running a hand through his own hair. 

Feyre pulled back and muttered, “Right.” She pecked Rhys once more on the lips before climbing out of his lap and dashing inside. Rhys sighed audibly and Lucien took hold of his hand.

“Is something wrong?” Lucien asked, his eyes scanning Rhysand’s face. Rhys was looking out over the rows of grapes.

“I just never thought-” Rhys shook his head, but Lucien squeezed his hand, urging him to continue. He drew his gaze to Lucien and began speaking again. “I had lost hope for a long time. Lost hope that you and Feyre would ever-” Rhys blew out a breath. “I thought that maybe Feyre was stronger than me. That she would be able to make life in Hollywood work.” He paused. “I thought that you’d stay away forever, but then…. I really couldn’t blame you, could I?” 

He was quiet for a minute, looking down at their clasped hands, at the thumb brushing softly over the top of his hand. “I thought I was going to be alone on this vineyard for the rest of my life.”

There they were. The insecurities he’d kept so well hidden these past few months. The internal conflict he’d fought for years. He knew Lucien wouldn’t turn and run at the revelation, but a part of him still worried.

Lucien only lifted Rhys’ chin with his free hand and ran his thumb over the furrow in Rhys’ brow.

“We’re here. We’re okay. We’re great. And we aren’t going anywhere.” Rhysand looked doubtful at Lucien’s words. “Stop worrying so much.” He kissed him lazily, like they had all the time in the world. Which, Rhys guessed, they did. “Come on, Feyre and Andi probably need backup.” 

Rhys chuckled as Lucien tugged him towards the front door, and decided that maybe Lucien was right. Worrying was futile. Worrying made it seem like he didn’t trust his boyfriend and girlfriend. So he shook off the thoughts and entered the house.

\---------

Thanksgiving arrived. 

Cassian and Nesta arrived midday on Tuesday, and Cassian had punched Rhys square in the face before pulling him into a crushing hug. Rhysand’s eye was swollen and purplish in color, for which Feyre and Lucien teased him endlessly. 

Azriel had shown up the day before on his motorcycle. He had promptly ignored Rhys for at least two hours after he arrived, speaking to everyone except him. Rhys eventually gave up on ignoring the elephant in the room and pressed Az about it. They’d gone out on the deck to talk and came back sometime later, grinning like fools. Azriel’s smile was more tame than Rhysand’s but ridiculous all the same.

Cassian and Lucien had began cooking Wednesday afternoon, to the confusion of Nesta and Feyre, who had never really had a large family Thanksgiving. Cassian had made him and Nesta dinner for the occasion, but it was never on this scale. 

Lucien and Feyre had usually just gone out somewhere. Feyre didn’t know what she was missing, but Lucien had experienced an “Inner Circle” Thanksgiving and without Rhysand or Cassian…. It wouldn’t have been the same. So Lucien, Azriel, and Morrigan had spent the past four Thanksgivings apart.

But now they were all in the same place. 

Along with Feyre, Nesta, and Andromache.

And it was perfect. Or as close to perfect as something can be.

The eight of them were sat at the dining room table that was still rarely used despite three people now residing in the house. Feyre, Rhys, and Lucien usually just sat at the table in the kitchen seeing as it was more cosy.

Lucien sat at one end of the table, Feyre to his left, Rhys to his right. Mor and Cassian sat across from each other. Mor in between Feyre and Andi, Cassian in between Rhysand and Nesta, leaving Azriel at the other end of the table.

The massive amount of food was spread down the center of the table. They’d only just sat down and nothing had been touched yet. Except for the mashed potatoes, which Feyre and Mor had stolen a bowl of earlier when Lucien and Cass weren’t looking.

“We’re not ones for formality. I’m not sure why you heathens haven’t reached for anything yet,” Rhys said, breaking the silence. They all opened their mouths to protest, but he cut them all off. “Just eat.” That was enough for everyone else.

Dishes of food were soon being passed around the table for everyone to serve themselves. Once they’d all eaten at least one bite, Cassian spoke.

“How many of you fucked last night?” He casually sipped from his wine as both Rhys and Mor choked on bites of food. Azriel just snickered. Nesta swatted at Cassian’s arm and he shot her a cocky grin. Her cheeks pinked, likely from the gleam in Cassian’s eyes. She averted her eyes and Cassian glanced around the table, his eyebrows raised in question.

“We did,” Feyre confirmed. Her boyfriends shot her matching incredulous looks. She rolled her eyes. “It’s not like they didn’t already know.” Mor snorted and took a sip of wine. Cassian looked satisfied with himself, but turned on Andromache next.

“Andi, please tell me you and Mor at least did _something_ interesting.” Mor gave her girlfriend a look that dared her to respond. Rhys, Feyre, and Lucien seemed to be having a mental conversation between the three of them. Both Nesta and Azriel were trying not to laugh at Mor’s slight embarrassment.

In the end, Andromache just smiled and shrugged, “Maybe.” No one had ever seen Mor blush as hard as she did just then. She looked down at her plate of food in an attempt to hide it. 

Cassian grinned smugly, clearly enjoying himself and also looking immensely satisfied. Nesta looked up at her husband and sighed before returning to her food. Azriel took a bite of mashed potatoes and his eyes widened.

“Lucien,” he said, drawing the trio’s attention back to the rest of the table, their heads turning towards Azriel in unison. “These mashed potatoes are delicious.” Azriel downed another bite as Cassian began to protest that he had helped too.

And so the conversation flowed, comfortably, easily. As if they did this all of the time. As if they hadn’t been separated for years until now.

Laughs and stories of the past were shared around the table like plates of food being passed from one person to the next. Few tears were shed, only smiles and bright eyes shone on the faces of the 8 people who had become family. 

By the time they rose from the table, the sun was gone along with the food. After cleaning the kitchen best they could, the group of friends- the family- grabbed blankets from the living room and went out back to watch the stars.

Hours later, when most everyone had gone to their respective rooms, and all the lights in the house had been turned off, Lucien, Rhysand, and Feyre still lay under the vast and dark night sky. 

Feyre was sandwiched in between them, her hands resting on her stomach. Lucien fiddled with a piece of her hair, glancing between her face with her lovely blue eyes on the sky and those twinkling stars. He also looked over at Rhys every once and awhile, scanning his face. Rhys’ eyes never strayed from the stars, not once.

“Hey, Rhys?” Feyre murmured, her eyes flicking to him. Her voice was somehow loud in the quietness of the vineyard. 

“Hmm?” Rhysand kept his eyes trained on the night sky. Feyre looked back at Lucien, who nodded at her, his fingers loosely braiding the piece of hair they held. She turned her head to Rhys again.

“I love you.” The words were so quiet. So quiet that Lucien wasn’t sure that she had even said them. But Rhys had heard them, his gaze flashing to hers in an instant.

“You--” Rhys blinked and looked like he was trying to school his face into something other than shock. “I love you, too.” Feyre sighed in relief and tilted up her head to meet Rhysand’s lips. He pulled away first and brushed back a piece of hair that had fallen in her face before resting his hand on her cheek. 

“There was a time when I never thought I’d hear that from you.” He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. Lucien wrapped his arm around Feyre’s abdomen and nuzzled his head into the back of her neck as Rhys spoke. “That first time you came over… that was the first time I let myself hope. But then I left, and-” Feyre pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shhhhh, I’m here, Lucien’s here, and we love you,” Feyre whispered as Lucien’s arm tightened around her slightly. “So much.” Her last words were nearly inaudible, but she knew Rhys had heard them as he blinked and a tear slid down his face.

Feyre kissed his cheek gently and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and burying her face in his chest. Lucien adjusted his arm, his hand moving to Rhys’ back where he ran it along lovingly.

They fell asleep under the stars in each other’s arms. The stars so similar to the lights that their names had been lit by. And yet, so different. 

Feyre had been right, Rhys was one of the lucky ones. But now so was she, and so was Lucien.

They had gotten out.

And _that_ is what made them so lucky.


End file.
